“We’ll still be here for you.”
I felt my face burn. I wanted to yell, throw the paper back in their faces, demand to know how they could treat me like a tenant. But I swallowed my pride and nodded.
For two years, I did everything I could to be responsible. I paid rent. I worked part-time at a café.
I studied hard for my classes. I even helped around the house—cooking, cleaning, babysitting Mia and my little half-brother, Ethan, who was only three. Then one afternoon, while we were eating dinner, Sharon casually sipped her tea and dropped a bomb.
“We need your room,” she said. I blinked. “What?”
She gave a dramatic sigh.
“With the new baby coming, there’s just no space.”
I felt my heart stop. “You’re… kicking me out?”
She raised her eyebrows like I was being unreasonable. “We all make sacrifices, Emily.
You have a week to move out.”
He shifted in his chair, avoiding my eyes.
“The baby needs a nursery.”
“There are other rooms!” I cried. “What about your office? Or Sharon’s?”
Sharon just shrugged.
“It’s not the same. Families help each other.”
I wanted to scream. Instead, I stood up, trembling, and left the table.
I locked myself in my room and called Aunt Claire. The second she answered, I burst into tears. “They’re kicking me out,” I sobbed.
She stayed calm while I explained everything. Then she said firmly, “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”
That night, someone knocked on the front door.
Sharon opened it and froze. My grandfather stood on the porch. His face was stern, his eyes blazing.
He didn’t shout—he didn’t need to. “I need a word with you and David,” he said in a deep, serious voice. I sat on the stairs, heart pounding, as they disappeared into Dad’s office.
I couldn’t hear every word, but I caught Sharon’s voice rising—sharp and angry. Then, silence. A few minutes later, the office door opened.
Sharon stormed out, her face red and furious. Dad followed, head low, not even looking at me. Then Grandpa came out.
He smiled at me gently. “Come. Let’s talk.”
We sat on the couch.
His face was calm, but his eyes still burned. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he said. “You have three choices.
You can stay here rent-free. Or you can move in with me. Or…” He smiled.
“You can move into one of my rental apartments. Also rent-free.”
I couldn’t speak. My chest tightened. Continue reading…
