The word hit me harder than any illness ever had.
“Excuse me?” I asked, my voice steady but cold.
“You’re old and a burden,” he sighed, rubbing his temple like I was the problem. “Chloe and I want to start our life together, and we can’t do that with you here.”
I looked at him—the same boy who once clung to my leg when he was scared, who cried in my arms when his dog died, who always said I was his best friend.
And now, he was throwing me out of my own home.
“You promised to take care of me,” I whispered.
“Yeah, well, things change,” he shrugged. “You’ll be fine. Just pack up soon, okay?”
Then he turned back to Chloe, as if he hadn’t just shattered my world.
But Daniel made one big mistake.
He underestimated me.
============================
That night, as I lay in bed, hearing their laughter downstairs, I made a choice.
I wouldn’t cry. I wouldn’t beg.
I would make sure Daniel regretted every bit of this.
By morning, he stormed into my room, holding a suitcase.
“Here. I packed your stuff.”
I looked at it. “You packed my stuff?”
“Yeah,” he said like he was doing me a favor. “Let’s not drag this out. This isn’t your home anymore.”
A bus stop bench—that’s where he thought I’d end up.
Oh, Daniel. You foolish, foolish boy.
I picked up the suitcase and walked to the front door. Daniel held it open, refusing to meet my eyes. In the kitchen, Chloe stirred her coffee like this had nothing to do with her.
I stepped onto the porch. The door shut behind me.
Just like that, I was homeless.
Or so he thought.
==========================
I sat on the porch for a while, waiting. Hoping the door would open. Hoping Daniel would realize his mistake.
An hour passed.
Nothing.
So, I walked next door.
“Margaret, can I use your phone?”
My neighbor’s eyes widened when she saw me standing there, suitcase in hand. “Oh, my God, what happened?”
“Daniel made a mistake.”
I dialed my lawyer.
“Elliot, it’s me. It happened.”
A pause. Then, his voice turned sharp. “He threw you out?”
“This morning,” I said.
“That ungrateful—” He stopped himself. “Alright, listen carefully. Do you remember the clause we added when you signed over the house?”
For the first time that day, I smiled.
“Oh, I remember.”
When I was sick, Elliot had insisted on a safety clause.
“We’ll add protection,” he had said. “If Daniel ever forces you out or fails to provide you a home, the deed reverts back to you. No loopholes.”
And Daniel, in all his arrogance, had never bothered to read the fine print.
Elliot chuckled. “I’ll file the paperwork now. By tonight, the house will be yours again.”
I leaned back in my chair, warmth spreading through me.