I said. “They didn’t want the house to start a family. They just wanted me out.” Mary sighed. “You gave them something they didn’t earn. And now you see who they really are.” “I thought I raised him better.” “You did,” she said. “But he took your kindness for granted. Now it’s time to think about yourself.— Days passed. Then one night, my phone rang. Mom,” my son said. “We need to talk.” When I arrived, his wife wasn’t home. He looked nervous. “Mom… I messed up,” he admitted. “We shouldn’t have lied. And we shouldn’t have treated you like that.” “What changed?”

I asked. He sighed. “Her mom moved in. It’s been awful. She criticizes everything. And my wife always takes her side.” I almost laughed. The irony was too perfect. “So you pushed your own mother out to make room for someone else’s.” He nodded, ashamed. “I wish I could take it back.” I let out a slow breath. “I appreciate the apology. But you made your choices. Now you live with them.” As I stood, he asked quietly, “Would you ever consider moving back?” I looked at him—the man he’d become, the mistakes he now saw clearly. “No, sweetheart,” I said. “This was my home once. But not anymore.” And I walked away—for the first time in a long time, choosing myself.