I stared at her. “Tell me what?”
Harold stepped forward with the confidence of a man explaining basic math to a toddler.
“In our family, the youngest son buys a house, and the parents move in. That’s how we do things.”
My stomach dropped. “Excuse me?”
Diane waved her hand like this was all routine.
“We’ll take the master bedroom, of course. It has more space.”
“The—what?” I stuttered.
She continued rambling about repainting the walls and replacing the fridge — as if she already lived there.
I looked at Jack.
He didn’t defend me. He didn’t correct them. He didn’t even look ashamed.
He shrugged.
“Yeah, babe. That’s the rule. Stop making a fuss.”
The rule.
I felt something inside me snap — not loudly, not dramatically — just a quiet, cold shift. Like a lock turning.
I smiled. “Oh. Of course.”
They thought I’d surrendered. They had no idea what was coming.
The Night Everything Changed
That night, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling while Jack snored beside me, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing.
I thought of every night I’d dragged myself home after a long shift, only to clean up after a grown man. I thought of every time his mother criticized me, every chore Jack ignored, every moment I carried the weight of our family alone.
I looked at Jack, sleeping like a man who’d contributed nothing — but felt entitled to everything.
And then, as quietly as a sunrise, clarity came.
I was done.
The Plan
I woke early, slipped out of bed, and made my first call.
