The price was high, but I could afford it. I’d never been a spender, but the thought of giving my grandchildren a spacious home in a nice neighborhood warmed my soul. Besides, I’m 67 now, and you can’t carry money with you.
At first, I just looked at the house with the realtor, a lovely woman in her 40s named Heather. “It’s a great investment, Mrs. Winship,” she assured me.
“Real estate in this neighborhood is only going up in value.” I hadn’t told my son about my plans. I wanted it to be a surprise. Maybe it was a mistake.
I should have seen the warning signs in Seren’s demeanor at the family dinner I’d thrown to announce my decision. That was two weeks ago. I’d cooked a roast, Rogan’s favorite dish since childhood.
Seren barely touched her food, constantly checking her phone. Emma was talking passionately about a school physics project, and I was happy to give her advice. Edgar was silently picking at his plate.
“I have news,” I said as we moved on to dessert. “I’ve decided to give you a present.” Saren looked away from the phone momentarily. There was a flicker of interest in her eyes.
“I bought a house on Oak Street, the one with the blue shutters that you liked so much, Seren, when you walked there last month.”
There was silence. Broen stared at me open-mouthed. Edgar stopped chewing.
Emma gasped enthusiastically. “You bought a house?” Broen finally spoke up. “Why?”
“For you,” I smiled.
“I want to put it in your name, son.”
Serene stood up so abruptly she almost knocked over a chair. “You bought the house on Oak Street? The one around the corner from the Mortimer house?”
I nodded, surprised by her reaction.
But she paused, glancing at the children. “We need to talk in private.”
We moved into the living room. Sarang closed the door carefully.
“Dear Dree, are you following us?” Her voice was quiet but harsh. “How do you know which house I liked?”
“Broen mentioned it in conversation,” I answered, confused. “I thought—”
“You always think too much,” she interrupted.
“And too involved in our lives.”
Broen entered the room feeling the tension. “Mom meant well, Sarin,” he said uncertainly. “For the best.”
Sarin crossed her arms over her chest.
“She bought a house two blocks away from us. What’s next? She’s going to stop by every day to see if we’re raising the kids, right?”
I felt the color flood my face.
“I didn’t mean to interfere with your life, Serena. I just wanted to help.”
“Help?” She snorted. “You want to be in control?
You always have.”
Rogan put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Let’s calm down. Mom gave a generous gift.”
Sarin shook off his hand.
“A generous gift with a hook. She always does that. Gives money and then expects eternal gratitude and a say in our decisions.”
I felt everything inside clench.
Was this really how she’d perceived my help all these years? “I’ve never asked for anything in return,” I said quietly. “No?” Saran raised an eyebrow.
“What about your constant advice about parenting? Your remarks about my food choices, your hints that we were spending too much.”
I didn’t recognize myself in her words. Did my attempts to help come across as criticism?
“I’m sorry if I was intrusive,” I said. “But the house is just a gift. No strings attached.”
Seren looked at me in disbelief.
“Are you really going to sign it over to Broen completely with no right of residence for yourself or any other loophole?”
Her question hit me, but I held back. “Yes, Seren. All unbroken.”
Something changed in her eyes.
A calculation. Satisfaction. She turned to her husband.
“Well, that changes things. If the house is all ours with no obligation to your mother, it might not be a bad idea.”
The next few days passed in a flurry of paperwork. I met with a notary, prepared the deed of gift.
Broen was unacceptably silent during the entire process while Seren, on the other hand, took an active interest in every detail. “Would we be free to do whatever we wanted with the house?” she asked. “Remodel it, sell it?”
I nodded in response.
The house was worth almost all of my savings. But seeing Seren looking at me without contempt for the first time was strangely satisfying. Yesterday, we finally signed all the papers at the notary’s office.
Broen gave me a hug after signing. “Thank you, Mom. That’s very generous of you.”
Serene didn’t hug me, but she smiled wider than usual.
“Yes, Deardra. Thank you. We’re having a housewarming party next Saturday when we move in.
A big celebration for all our friends.”
I felt a rush of warmth. The ice is finally breaking. “I’d love to help organize,” I offered.
Serene’s smile became strained. “Oh, that won’t be necessary. We’ve already planned everything.”
We walked out of the notary’s office into the bright spring sunshine.
Broen had gone to answer a work call, and Saran and I were alone at the entrance. “You know,” she said, looking past me. “Now that the house is officially ours, I think it’s best if you don’t come to the housewarming party.”
I blinked, not sure I’d heard her correctly.
“I’m sorry—the housewarming party,” she repeated, now looking directly at me. “There would be a lot of our friends. Broen’s co-workers.
Having an elderly mother-in-law around will create the wrong atmosphere.”
I felt my heart skip a beat. “But I… I gave you a house.”
Siren shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “And we’re grateful, but the house is ours now, and we decide who we invite to parties.”
Broen returned at that moment, and Serene’s expression instantly changed to a friendly one.
“What were you two talking about?” he asked. “About the housewarming party,” Saran replied. “I was just telling your mom that she shouldn’t worry about helping.
It’s all going to be very noisy and tiring.”
Rogan nodded, not noticing my shocked expression. “Yes, Mom. There will be a crowd of people there.
You’re not going to be comfortable.”
I stared at my son, not believing my ears. Did he not realize that I had just been excluded from a party at the house I had given him? “I wish I could come,” I said quietly.
“At least for a little while.”
Siren cast a quick glance at Broen, and it was as if he’d gotten a silent command. “You know, Mom, maybe another time. The first party’s going to be really loud.
Lots of co-workers from work.”
“I get it,” I interrupted him, feeling my insides grow cold. “I wouldn’t impose.”
We said goodbye, and I went home to my apartment. I sat at the window all evening, looking out at the street and thinking about what had happened.
Something told me that this was just the beginning, that the situation would only get worse. I had given them practically everything I had, and in return, I received alienation. This morning, I decided to call Seren to clear the air.
Maybe I misunderstood her. Maybe she just didn’t mean it right. Serene answered after the fifth ring.
“Uh, dear Dree, is something wrong?”
“I wanted to talk to you about the housewarming,” I started. “I think there was a misunderstanding yesterday.”
“There was no misunderstanding.” Her voice grew colder. “I was very clear.
We don’t want you at the house warming.”
“But why?” I tried to speak calmly. “I’m the one who gave you the house.”
“So?” She sounded annoyed. “You gave it to us.
We accepted it. It’s ours now and we decide who crosses its threshold.”
I felt a tear roll down my cheek. “Saran, I don’t understand.
Why are you being so cruel?”
There was a chuckle on the phone. “Cruelty? We just don’t need you anymore, Deardra.
You’ve done your job. You gave us the money. You’re useless to us now.
So get out.”
I froze, clutching the phone so hard my knuckles turned white. “Does it really hurt your eyes?” Serena continued. “We put up with your meddling, your advice, your visits just because we needed you.
And now that the house is ours, we can finally dot all the i’s and t’s. Stay away from us, dearly. Especially the children.”
I listened to her tirade in silence, feeling something inside of me break.
And at the same time, somehow strangely, something strengthened. “I understand you, Seren,” I finally said in a surprisingly calm voice. “I understood you very well.”
I hung up the phone and sat still for a few minutes.
Then I smiled. Not the kind of smile you smile when you’re happy. The smile you get when you finally see things clearly.
I knew what to do next. After our phone call with Serene, I hadn’t been in my right mind. Her words rang in my ears like a bell ringing.
You’re useless to us now. Get out. I tried to convince myself that it was just emotion, that she couldn’t be serious.
After all, we are family, aren’t we? All day, I tried to distract myself. I cleaned the apartment, went through old photos, even started reading a detective novel I’d been putting off for a long time, but nothing helped.
Toward evening, I decided to call my son. Maybe he didn’t know about his wife’s words. Maybe he’d take my side.
Broen didn’t answer right away, and I could tell from his voice that he was busy. “Mom, is it an emergency? I have a meeting here in 5 minutes.”
“I talked to Seren today,” I started, trying to keep my voice calm, “about the housewarming.”
There was silence on the phone.
“Oh, that,” he finally said. “Look, we just don’t think it’s going to be your type of party. Lots of noise, alcohol, loud music.”
“Broen,” I took a deep breath.
“Serene told me that you didn’t need me anymore, that you only put up with me for the money. Is that true?”
Again, the pause—longer this time. “Mom, you know Serene?” His voice was quieter, as if he was afraid of being overheard.
“She says harsh things sometimes, but she doesn’t mean them. There’s so much hassle with the move right now. We’re all on edge.”
“So, I’m still invited to the housewarming party?” I asked bluntly.
“Well…” he hesitated. “Seren’s already made a guest list, and a lot of her friends and my co-workers will be there. I think you’d be really uncomfortable.”
I closed my eyes, feeling a wave of bitterness rising inside.
“Broen, I gave you a home. Don’t I even deserve an invitation to a housewarming party?”
“Mom,” he sounded annoyed. “We’re very grateful for the house.
We really are. But that doesn’t mean we have to invite you to every event.”
“I’m not asking you to invite me to every event,” my voice trembled. “Only to the first one in the house I gave you.”
“Look, I have to go to a meeting,” he said.
“Let’s talk about this later, okay?”
He hung up without waiting for an answer. I stared at the phone in my hand, not believing it was a conversation with my son, the boy I’d raised alone for the past 8 years, giving him all my love and care. The next days passed like a blur.
I went to work at the library where I worked part-time for a few hours a week so I wouldn’t have to stay home alone, talking to co-workers, smiling at visitors. But it was empty inside. I barely slept at night, replaying in my head all of our relationships with Broen and Serene over the past few years, trying to figure out when things had gone wrong.
On Thursday, two days before the housewarming party, the phone rang. It was Emma, my granddaughter. “Grandma,” her voice sounded excited.
“Are you coming to our housewarming party?”
I didn’t know what to say. Should I lie? Tell the truth?
“Honey, I’m afraid your parents didn’t invite me.”
“What?” She sounded genuinely surprised. “But how could they? You bought us a house.”
“Sometimes grown-ups do weird things,” I said cautiously.
“Maybe your mom has her reasons.”
“There are no reasons,” Emma interrupted. “It’s not fair. I heard mom tell dad that now that the house was ours, there was no point in wasting time on an old woman.”
I covered my eyes.
So, it wasn’t just that Saren didn’t want me at the party. She was saying those things about me in front of the kids. “Emma, I don’t want you to get in trouble with your mom because of me.”
“But I want you to come,” she sounded stubborn.
“It’s your party, too.”
“Honey, if your parents decided that I shouldn’t come, I have to respect their decision.”
“It’s not fair,” she repeated. “Mom always says we should be grateful when someone gives us a gift, and she won’t even invite you to the housewarming party.”
“Emma,” I said softly. “Sometimes unfair things happen in life.
It doesn’t mean we stop loving each other. I’ll still be your grandmother even if I don’t come to the party.”
“But I want you to come.” Her voice trembled. “I’ll tell my mom it’s important to me.”
“No, honey.” I was firm.
“There’s no need to create conflict. You and I can meet another day and you can tell me all about the new house.”
“Okay.”
After talking to Emma, I sat in the chair for a long time, looking at the picture of Broen as a baby. He was about 8 years old, standing on a lake shore with a fishing rod, proudly displaying his first catch.
Leonard took this picture during our family vacation. We were so happy then, young parents full of hope for their child’s future. Where is that boy now?
What happened to my kind, helpful son? Had Sarin changed him so much, or was it just a mask and in fact he had always been like that, indifferent, calculating? Friday night, I noticed a missed call from Broen on my phone.
He hadn’t left a message, so I decided to call back. When he answered, I heard voices and noise in the background. It sounded like they were moving in.
“Mom,” he sounded out of breath. “Can you watch the kids tomorrow for 3 or 4 hours? We need to go furniture shopping and there’s no one to leave the kids with.”
I couldn’t believe my ears.
After everything that had happened, after I’d been excluded from the family holiday, he was asking me to babysit. “Tomorrow? On housewarming day?” I asked cautiously.
“No,” he was clearly focused on something else. “The party’s tonight and we have to go in the afternoon. Can you make it?”
I stayed silent, trying to deal with my emotions.
So, I wasn’t good enough for their party, but I was good enough to be a free babysitter. “Broen,” I finally said, “I think we need to talk about what Serena said about how you feel about me.”
“Mom, now really isn’t the time,” he interrupted. “We have a lot of boxes to fill and I’m up to my ears in business.
So, can you make it tomorrow or not?”
I took a deep breath. “No, Broen, I can’t. I have other plans.”
“What other plans?” He sounded distrustful.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
The words hit me harder than I’d expected. There was so much disdain in them, so much certainty that my life was empty without them. “I’m meeting some friends,” I lied.
“We’d made plans a long time ago.”
“Okay,” he sighed. “Seren’s going to have to find a way out of this. She’s not going to be happy.”
“I’m sorry,” I tried to sound sincere.
“Maybe some other time.”
As I hung up the phone, I felt strangely relieved. For the first time in a long time, I’d said no to my son, put my own interests, even imaginary ones, before his needs, and the sky hadn’t fallen to the ground. On Saturday, the day of the housewarming party, I woke up with a heavy heart.
All day, I found things to do. I went to the store, made dinner, watched an old movie. But my thoughts kept coming back to what’s going on in the new house right now—how they were arranging the furniture, how Emma and Edgar were choosing their rooms, how Seren was bossing the workers around, and how none of them even thought of me.
Around 6:00 p.m., when the party was supposed to start, I couldn’t stand it and decided to take a walk. The new house was about a half hour walk from my apartment, and I headed that way without a clear plan. I just wanted to be closer to them, even if they didn’t want to see me.
The evening was warm. The lilacs were blooming and their scent filled the air. I walked slowly, enjoying the beauty of springtime Georgetown.
This city had been my home for almost 40 years. And I knew every street, every park. It’s where Leonard and I raised Broen, where I taught, where I buried my husband.
As I approached Oak Street, I saw cars parked along the road. A lot of cars. Music came from far away.
And as I got closer, I saw through the large windows of the new house guests with glasses, laughing, talking. I stopped on the opposite side of the street, looking at this celebration of a life I had no place for. Suddenly, the front door opened and Serene stepped out onto the porch.
She was wearing an elegant navy blue dress, her hair styled in an elaborate updo. Broen stood beside her, holding her by the waist. They were welcoming new guests—a well-dressed middle-aged couple.
Hugs, kisses on the cheek, loud cheers. I stood in the shade of a tree, invisible to them, watching this scene like a movie. My son, my house, my failed party.
It was all so close and so unattainable. The guests made their way inside, but Sarin lingered on the porch, pulling out a cigarette. Broen said something to her and went back inside.
She lit it, letting the smoke out into the evening air. At that moment, her gaze slid down the street and stopped on me. I knew I should leave, that I shouldn’t have come here, but my feet felt like they were stuck to the ground.
Sarin stared at me for a few seconds, then grinned and headed across the street. I wanted to turn around and walk away, but something kept me in place. Maybe it was the desire to finally figure things out.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, coming closer. “Are you spying on us?”
“I was just taking a walk,” I answered. “This is a public street.”
Sarin let out a stream of smoke to the side.
“You know, dear Dree, it’s pathetic—standing here and peeking at a party you weren’t invited to.”
“I just wanted to see the house,” I said, trying to keep my dignity. “Make sure you’re settling in well.”
“Oh, we’re settling in just fine,” she smiled, but her eyes remained cold. “The house is wonderful.
It’s a shame you won’t be able to visit the inside.”
“Siren.” I took a deep breath. “I don’t understand why you’re so set against me. What have I done to deserve this attitude?”
She laughed, but there was no mirth in her laugh.
“You really don’t understand, do you? You’ve always been a thorn in our side. Always meddling with my advice, criticizing my decisions, trying to influence the kids behind my back.”
“I never—”
“Oh, please.” She waved her hand.
“Spare me the righteous talk. You always thought you knew best how we should live our lives. Always looking down on me as if I wasn’t good enough for your precious son.”
I was struck by her words.
Had she really felt that way about me all these years? “Seren, I never meant to—”
“You know what, dear Dre?” She took a step closer and I could smell the alcohol in her breath. “We don’t need you anymore.
We’ve got the house and there’s no reason to tolerate you in our lives anymore. You’re useless to us now. Get out.”
Her words spoken right to my face were like a slap in the face.
I took a step back, feeling tears coming to my eyes. “Hey, is everything okay?” Broen’s voice came from across the street. He crossed the street and came toward us.
“Mom, what are you doing here?”
“Your mother decided to play stalker,” Seren grinned. “Standing here watching our house.”
“I was just passing by,” I said, looking hopefully at my son. “I wanted to see how you were settling in.”
Rogan looked confused, shifting his gaze from me to his wife.
“Mom, it’s not very comfortable. We have company.”
“I know,” I said quietly. “I didn’t mean to come over.
I just wanted to—” My voice trailed off. “Broen, the guests are waiting.” Sarin took his hand. “Let’s go.”
My son looked at me with an expression I couldn’t decipher.
Confusion, pity, irritation. “Maybe we could talk tomorrow,” he suggested. “Now wasn’t a good time.”
“Sure,” I tried to smile.
“Go see your guests. I was just leaving.”
Sarin tugged his arm and they headed back toward the house. Halfway there, Broen stopped and turned around.
“Mom, I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Okay.” I nodded, not trusting my voice. They left and I stood under the tree, tears streaming down my cheeks. I walked home slowly as if in a fog.
The spring beauty of Georgetown, which had delighted me on the way here, now seemed like a mockery. I felt like a stranger in this city, in this life. Back in the apartment, I mechanically made tea, sat in a chair, and stared out the window.
Over the years, I had grown accustomed to loneliness, had learned to find comfort in it. But today, it was weighing on me like a heavy blanket that made it hard to breathe. I thought about how our relationship with Broen had changed since his marriage.
How gradually, year after year, Saran had distanced him from me. At first, it was the little things. A missed Sunday lunch, a forgotten birthday, a last-minute canceled visit.
Then more serious things. Broen stopped sharing news with me, stopped asking for advice, stopped calling just to check up on me. And I… I put up with it.
I smiled when it hurt, offered help when I saw indifference, gave money when I got cold gratitude in return. I told myself that it was normal, that children should live their own lives, that the most important thing was that they were happy. But today, standing under that tree, looking at the celebration from which I was banished, I finally saw the truth.
My son had chosen a side, and it wasn’t my side. He allowed his wife to insult me, to push me away, to use me. And after all of that, he had the conscience to ask me to babysit the kids so they could be more comfortable getting ready for a party I wasn’t invited to.
The phone rang, interrupting my thoughts. Emma’s number. “Grandma.” Her voice sounded muffled.
“Were you really standing outside our house?”
“I was walking by,” I said. “I wanted to look at the house.”
“Mom’s really mad,” Emma said. “She says you’re following us.”
“That’s not true, sweetheart,” I sighed.
“I just missed you.”
“I miss you, too.” Her voice trembled. “I wanted you to come to the party.”
“I know you did, honey. But your mom decided otherwise.”
“It’s not fair.” Emma’s voice sounded indignant.
“You bought us this house.”
“Sometimes life isn’t fair,” I said quietly. “You’ll realize that soon enough.”
“I don’t want to realize it,” she said stubbornly. “I want us all to be a family.”
After talking to Emma, I couldn’t sleep for a long time.
All these years, I’d convinced myself that I was doing the right thing, that my sacrifice was an act of love. But what if I was just letting them use me? What if my submission was only reinforcing their disregard?
For the first time in years, I allowed myself to be truly angry—at Saran for her cruelty, at Broen for his cowardice, and at myself for putting up with it for too long. I deserve to be treated better. I deserve respect and gratitude, not contempt.
I deserve to be part of a family, not a convenient ATM machine that could be discarded when it had served its purpose. Looking up at the dark ceiling of my bedroom, I made a decision. No more concessions, no more excuses for their behavior.
It was time to show them that I could not be treated like this. The morning was overcast. Gray clouds covered the sky and a light rain pounded the eaves.
The weather matched my mood—grim but determined. I stayed up most of the night thinking about my next move, and by dawn, I knew exactly what I needed to do. The first thing I did was call the library and let them know I wouldn’t be coming in to work.
My supervisor, Mrs. Parker, was an understanding woman and didn’t ask any questions, just wished me well. I felt a prick of conscience over the little lie.
But I really did have more important things to do today than sorting books. Around 9:00 in the morning, I dialed a number I hadn’t used in years. Crisel Knobs had been our family’s attorney since Leonard and I bought our first house.
He helped us with the will, with the insurance paperwork, and after Leonard died, he handled all the legal matters. When I decided to gift the house to Broen, it was Crisel who drafted the deed of gift. “The law firm of Knobs and Associates.
How can I help you?” A pleasant female voice answered. “Good morning,” I said. “This is Dearree Winship.
I need to speak to Mr. Knobs about an urgent matter.”
“Just a moment, Mrs. Winship, to check his schedule.”
After a brief pause, the secretary informed me that Mr.
Knobs would be able to see me today at 11:00. I thanked her and hung up. I had two hours to gather my thoughts and prepare for the appointment.
I showered, put on a navy colored suit, one of the few remaining from my teaching days. I tinted my lips and applied some blush so I wouldn’t look so pale. Looking at myself in the mirror, I saw a tired but collected woman.
Not a victim, but a person ready to fight for her rights. Crisel’s office was in downtown Georgetown in an old red brick building. I arrived a little before the appointed time and sat in the reception area for a few minutes, leafing through a magazine without reading the articles.
My thoughts were occupied with the upcoming conversation. At precisely 11:00, the office door opened and out stepped Crisabel Knobs, a tall man of about 65 with a neatly trimmed gray beard and shrewd blue eyes. “Dear Dree,” he smiled warmly.
“How nice to see you. Please come in.”
His office was exactly as I remembered it, spacious, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with legal volumes, a massive wooden desk, and comfortable leather chairs for visitors. “Tea, coffee?” he offered as I settled into the chair.
“No, thank you,” I shook my head. “I don’t have much time.”
“Then let’s get down to business.” Crisel sat down across from me. “You said on the phone that it was urgent.”
I took a deep breath and began to tell him about how I’d bought the house for my son and his family, how I’d gotten the deed of gift, how Serene had forbidden me to come to the housewarming party, about our conversation on the street, and about the phrase that had been on my mind: You’re useless to us now.
Get out. Crisel listened attentively, not interrupting, only occasionally making notes in his notebook. When I finished, he took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“I understand your feelings, Dearree, and I sympathize with you. What they did to you was unforgivable. But I have to ask, what exactly is it you want to accomplish now?”
“I want to undo the gift,” I said firmly.
“I want the house back. Is that possible?”
Crisel tapped his pen thoughtfully on the table. “In principle, yes.
In the deed of gift we drawn up, there was a clause that said it could be revoked in case of gross disrespect and ungrateful behavior on the part of the giver. It’s standard legal language that I include in all such documents.”
“And Serene’s words fall under that definition?” I asked hopefully. “Absolutely,” he nodded.
“Especially when combined with the fact that you weren’t invited to a housewarming party at the house you donated. But I must warn you that the process can be tricky, especially if your son decides to contest the revocation.”
“Can he do that?”
“Theoretically, yes. But we have an advantage.
The contract was signed very recently. You have not received any compensation for the house, and there is clear evidence of ingratitude. If it goes to trial, you have a very good chance.”
I was relieved.
So, I’m not powerless. I have a way to respond to the insult and defend myself. “What do I need to do to start the trial?” I asked.
“First, I’ll prepare a notice of revocation. We will send it to your son by registered mail with return receipt requested. The notice will state the reasons for the revocation and require him to vacate the house within 30 days.”
“Thirty days?” I frowned.
“They just moved in.”
“That’s standard,” Crisabel explained. “But usually in these cases, the parties come to an agreement before it expires. Either your son would accept the revocation of the gift and return the house to you, or he would challenge the decision in court.”
I imagined Serene’s reaction to the recision letter and felt a mixture of anxiety and strange satisfaction.
“When can we send the notice?” I asked. “I’ll prepare the documents today,” replied Crisel. “Tomorrow you can sign them and we will send the notice.
But dear Dre, I have to ask. Are you sure you want to go this way? Cancelling the gift could completely destroy your relationship with your son.”
I grinned bitterly.
“I’m afraid our relationship is already ruined. Crisel, you didn’t see the look on his face when he stood next to Sarin on the street. He’s chosen a side, and it’s not my side.”
When I said those words out loud, I felt a lump rise to my throat.
It was a painful truth, but it was still the truth. “Okay.” Crisel nodded. “I’ll start the paperwork, but know that you can change your mind at any time before the notice is sent.”
On the way home, I thought about our conversation.
There were conflicting feelings inside—the determination to get justice and the fear of losing my son forever. But every time my doubts began to take over, I remembered Serene’s words, her scornful look, and my resolve returned. At home, I sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea and an old photo album.
Flipping through the pages, I looked at the pictures that captured our family’s history. Here was Broen taking his first steps. Here he was walking to first grade with a huge bouquet for his teacher.
Here was his high school graduation. Here was his wedding to Saran. In the last picture, they stood side by side, young and happy.
Broen in a dark suit, Saran in a white dress with lace. I remember that day so clearly. I remember my joy for my son and my hope that this marriage would bring him happiness.
I remember Serene smiling at me and calling me mom. And I remember how after the ceremony, she whispered to a friend, “The important thing now is to keep your mother-in-law at a distance.”
I pretended I didn’t hear. I told myself that this is a normal reaction of a young woman who wants to build her own family without the interference of her husband’s parents.
That in time, we would find common ground. But as time went on, the relationship only worsened. Every visit to their house became an ordeal.
Sarin knew how to create an atmosphere that made me feel unwanted, unwelcome. Little remarks, cold glances, defiant sighs when I stayed longer than she intended. When the twins were born, I thought things would change.
I hoped that being a grandmother would allow me to be closer to their family. But Sarin set strict rules from the beginning. I could only see my grandchildren on a schedule, always in their home and under her supervision.
“The children are so used to their regimen,” she said with fake concern. “We don’t want to upset them.”
And then the requests for financial help began. At first, small ones—to buy children’s furniture, to pay for a private kindergarten.
Then more and more serious ones—for a down payment on a house, a new car for Broen. I never said no. Partly because I loved my son and wanted him and my grandchildren to have the best.
Partly, I’ll be honest with myself, because this help was the only way I could remain a part of their lives. Sarin accepted my money as if she were doing me a favor. Never sincerely thanking me, always making it clear that I should be grateful for the opportunity to help her.
“You’re so generous, dear Dre,” she said with a slight smile. “It must make you feel needed.”
And I smiled back, swallowing my resentment, convincing myself that the most important thing was to help my son’s family. But buying a house was the last straw.
I gave almost all my savings to provide a comfortable life for them. And in return, I was insulted and ostracized as if I was not a loving mother and grandmother, but an ATM machine that had served its function and could now be turned off. As I closed the album, I felt the resolve building inside.
I didn’t deserve to be treated like this, and I wasn’t going to put up with it anymore. The next morning, I went to Crisabel’s office again. He had already prepared all the necessary documents: a notice of revocation, a statement to the court in case Broen refused to recognize the revocation, and a few other papers that I didn’t quite understand.
“Here are all the legal grounds for revoking the gift,” Crisabel explained, showing me the documents. “Gross disrespect, ingratitude, violation of moral obligations. All of these fall under article 278 of the civil code.”
I read each document carefully before signing.
The notice dryly listed the facts: the date of the gift, the value of the house, the reasons for cancelling, the requirement to vacate the premises. No emotion, just legal language. “What happens next?” I asked, putting the last signature.
“We’ll send these documents by registered mail,” Crisabel replied. “As soon as Broen receives them, a 30-day period will begin. Within that time, he must either accept the revocation of the gift and return the house to you or contest the decision in court.”
“What if he just ignores the notice?”
“Then we’ll file a lawsuit,” Crisel shrugged slightly.
“But I doubt it will come to that. From what you tell me, your sister-in-law values this house too much to risk losing it.”
“What do you mean?” I frowned. “I think they’ll try to negotiate,” he explained.
“Maybe they’ll offer you compensation for the house or some other way of settling the dispute.”
“I don’t want compensation,” I said firmly. “I want my house back.”
Crisel looked at me carefully. “Dearree, I have to ask you again.
Are you sure you want to go through with this? It could lead to a complete breakdown in your relationship with your son.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, imagining Broen’s face when he received the notice. His surprise, shock, perhaps anger.
I imagined Sarin screaming, blaming him for failing to control his mother. I felt sick at the thought, but then I remembered how they’d stood on the porch greeting guests in the house I’d bought at a party I hadn’t been invited to. “Yes, Crisabel,” I said firmly.
“I want to go all the way.”
He nodded and gathered the papers into a folder. “Good. I’ll send the notice today.
Expect a response in the coming days.”
As I left the lawyer’s office, I felt strangely relieved, as if I had shed a heavy weight I had been carrying for years. For the first time in a long time, I acted not as a sacrificial mother, ready to do anything for the happiness of her son, but as a person defending his dignity and his rights. On my way home, I stopped at a cafe that I used to frequent with Leonard.
We liked to sit there on Sundays, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. After he died, I stopped coming here. Too many memories.
But something brought me here today. I ordered tea and cake, sat at a table by the window, and looked out at the street. Georgetown was beautiful in the spring.
Blossoming trees, bright sunshine, people going about their business. Life went on despite my personal dramas. “What would you do in my shoes, Leonard?” I mentally asked, and I could almost hear his answer.
The same thing you would, dear. No one has the right to treat you like that, not even our son. Leonard had always been a fair man.
He taught broken respect, honesty, gratitude. What would he say when he saw what his son had become? How would he react to Seren’s words?
These thoughts brought on a new wave of doubt. Maybe I’m being too harsh. Maybe I should have talked to Broen first, given him a chance to make things right.
But deep down, I knew that talking wouldn’t change anything. Broen made his choice a long time ago. He’d let Seren insult me, use me, and then throw me away like a worthless thing.
He stood beside her on the street and didn’t say a word in my defense. No, I couldn’t go on living my life as if nothing had happened. I couldn’t turn the other cheek again, only to receive another slap.
I finished my tea, paid, and walked out of the cafe. The sun warmed my face. A light breeze played with my hair.
I took a deep breath of spring air and felt a calm confidence growing inside. No matter what happened next, I was doing the right thing. Protecting myself, my dignity, my rights.
And if that meant losing my relationship with my son… well, in essence, I’ve already lost him. The Broen I raised would never have let me be treated the way Serena did. At home, the first thing I did was check my cell phone.
No missed calls, no messages. Broen hadn’t kept his promise to call after the housewarming party. No surprise there.
I sat down at the table and began to formulate a plan of action. First, I needed to think about finances. Cancelling the gift meant the house would be mine again, but I had almost no savings left.
I might have to sell it to ensure a comfortable old age. Secondly, I had to think about grandchildren. I didn’t want to lose touch with Emma and Edgar because of the conflict with their parents.
Maybe when this whole situation was resolved, we could have a direct relationship without Seren mediating. Third, I needed to prepare myself for a possible confrontation. When Broen and Serene got the notice, they would probably try to contact me.
I needed to decide what I would tell them. I wrote down all these points on a piece of paper and thought about it. For the first time in years, I was planning my life with my own interests in mind rather than wanting to please my son and his family.
It was a strange, unfamiliar, but pleasant feeling. The phone rang, interrupting my musings. The number was unfamiliar.
“Dear Drew Winship speaking,” I said. “Mrs. Winship, this is Heather Morris, the realtor who helped you buy the house on Oak Street,” came a cheerful voice.
“I’m calling to see how happy you are with your purchase. Has your family moved in yet?”
I was confused for a moment. Heather didn’t know what had happened since we’d bought the house.
“Yes, they had moved,” I answered cautiously. “But things have changed a bit, I may have to sell the house in the near future.”
“Oh,” there was surprise in her voice. “Did something happen?
The house didn’t fit?”
“No, there’s nothing wrong with the house,” I said. “It was just a family emergency.”
“I understand.” Heather quickly switched to professional mode. “If you decide to sell, I’d be happy to help.
Real estate in that area is in high demand, so it won’t be a problem to sell.”
We talked some more about the real estate market and I thanked her for the call. After the conversation, I added another item to my list: contact Heather about selling the house. In the evening, I felt a strange calmness.
It was as if by deciding to act, I was finally free of the weight of uncertainty and fear. I knew there were difficult times ahead—perhaps a legal battle with my own son—but I also knew I was doing the right thing. Before I went to bed, I took a long look at Leonard’s picture on my bedside table.
“I’ll be fine, honey,” I said quietly. “You taught me to be strong,” and it seemed to me that he was smiling at me from the photograph, approving of my decision. “You are quite right.”
I unreasonably began to lead to reconciliation at the end of the chapter, although you clearly indicated that it should not be.
I rewrite the chapter, sticking strictly to the outline and without any hint of reconciliation. Three days have passed since the notice of revocation of the gift was sent. Three days of silence that I knew was only the calm before the storm.
Every time the phone rang, I flinched, but they were just the usual calls—a friend inviting me to tea, the library checking my schedule, telemarketers with their endless offers. Crisel said the notice was delivered to the Oak Street address on Tuesday with confirmation of receipt. So Broen and Seran already knew of my decision.
Their silence was alarming. I expected an immediate reaction—angry calls, accusations, threats—but the phone was silent, and that bothered me more than any shouting. Around 2:00 on Thursday afternoon, when I had just returned from the library where I worked part-time, the first call came.
Sarin’s name popped up on the phone screen. I took a deep breath, gathering my strength, and answered. “Dear Dre,” her voice sounded oddly high, almost hysterical.
“What’s with all this paperwork? Is this some kind of joke?”
“Hello, Seren,” I said calmly. “No, it’s not a joke.
This is an official notice to cancel the gift.”
“You can’t do that,” she screamed. “The house is ours. You gave it to us.”
“I can,” I said.
“And I do. There is a clause in a gift contract that allows you to cancel it in case of gross disrespect and ingratitude on the part of the giver. Your words and actions fall squarely within that definition.”
There was a sound on the other end of the line that sounded like a scream, and then the receiver seemed to be snatched.
“Mom.” It was Broen’s voice. “What’s going on? Why are you doing this?”
“Hello, Broen.” I tried to keep my voice steady even though my heart was pounding.
“I think you know why, after the way your family treated me.”
“You mean the housewarming party?” He sounded confused. “But we explained—”
“It’s not just the housewarming,” I interrupted. “It’s about the way Serena talked to me.
The way you two have treated me all these years. I don’t deserve to be treated that way, Broen.”
In the background, I could hear Seren yelling something, but I couldn’t make out the words. “Mom, let’s meet and talk,” Broen said.
“I’m sure we can work this out peacefully.”
“I’m open to talking,” I replied. “But my decision is firm. Either you vacate the house within 30 days or we’ll meet in court.”
“Court,” his voice trembled.
“Are you seriously prepared to sue us?”
“I hope it won’t come to that,” I said sincerely. “But yes, I’m ready to defend my rights.”
The conversation was interrupted. It sounded like Seren had grabbed the phone again.
“You’re going to regret this, Dearra,” she hissed. “I swear you’ll never see your grandchildren again. I’ll take care of it.”
The call went dead after that.
I slowly put the phone down, feeling my hands shaking. Serene’s threat had hit a nerve. The thought of losing contact with Emma and Edgar was unbearable.
But I forced myself to remain calm. Serene often threatened in anger, but I wouldn’t let her manipulate me again. The phone rang again almost immediately.
This time it was broken. “Mom, I’m sorry about Saran,” he said. “She’s very upset.
Can we meet today? Talk in person.”
“Yes,” I said, and we agreed to meet in an hour at a small cafe near my house. Neutral territory seemed like the best place for such a conversation.
The cafe was almost empty at that hour. I chose a table in the corner away from the other customers. Broen showed up exactly at the appointed time, alone, which surprised me.
I’d expected Seren to insist on his presence. “Saren couldn’t make it,” he explained as if he’d read my mind. “She’s not in the right state of mind.”
“I understand,” I nodded.
“Such news could be shocking.”
Rogan ordered coffee, but he didn’t even touch it when the waiter brought it over. “Mom, I don’t understand,” he began. “Why are you doing this?
We just moved in. We’re getting settled. The kids are used to their rooms.”
“I don’t understand why you’re surprised,” I replied.
“After everything that’s happened, after what Serene said, after the two of you cut me out of the family party at the house I bought for you.”
“Serene can be abrupt sometimes,” Rogan said uncertainly. “You know her temper. She didn’t mean—”
“Didn’t mean what?” I interrupted.
“She didn’t mean to insult me? She didn’t mean to exclude me from the family holiday? Didn’t mean to use me as an ATM machine and then throw me away?”
Broen lowered his eyes and I realized he knew.
Maybe not all the details, but the gist of it definitely. “What do you want us to do?” he finally asked. “What are you trying to accomplish with this notice?”
“I want justice,” I answered simply.
“I gave you almost all my savings to buy this house and in return I’ve been insulted and alienated. It’s not fair and I’m not going to stand for it.”
Our conversation was interrupted by Broen’s cell phone ringing. He looked at the screen and frowned.
“It’s Seren,” he said. “She must be worried.”
“Answer it,” I nodded. He answered the phone and I could hear Seren’s excited voice, though I couldn’t make out the words.
“Yeah, I’m with my mom,” Rogan said. “We’re talking. No, not yet.
Okay, I’ll tell you.”
He put the phone down on the table. “Siren wants to talk to you. She’s on her way over here right now.”
I nodded, feeling everything inside clench.
A direct confrontation with Seren was inevitable, but I hoped to delay the moment. We sat in awkward silence, waiting for her to arrive. Roen tapped his fingers nervously on the table, avoiding my gaze.
I tried to remain outwardly calm even though I was seething inside. Twenty minutes later, the door opened and Saran walked in. Her usually impeccable appearance was ruined.
Her hair was disheveled, her eyes red from crying, her makeup smeared. She walked quickly to our table, ignoring the curious stares of the other diners. “Dear Dree,” her voice shook.
“How could you do this to us? After everything we’ve been through together—”
I looked up at her, trying to see a modicum of sincerity in that performance, but all I saw was calculation and fear of losing the house. “What exactly have we been through together, Seren?” I asked calmly.
“Your neglect, your insults, your use of me as a source of money?”
“I’ve never—” she stammered, casting a quick glance at Broen. “I’ve always respected you as Broen’s mother, as the grandmother of our children.”
“Have you?” I crossed my arms across my chest. “Then why did you tell me to get lost because you didn’t need me anymore?
Why did you forbid me to come to the housewarming party at the house I’d bought?”
“I was nervous,” Serena sobbed theatrically. “Moving. So much trouble.
I said something I didn’t mean. It was a moment of weakness.”
I looked at this woman who’d coldly and calculatingly pushed me away from my son’s family for years. And now she was making a show of remorse.
And I felt a wave of anger rising inside. “That’s enough, Seren,” I said. “I don’t believe a word you’ve said.
You said exactly what you thought you were saying. You just didn’t expect your words to have consequences.”
Sarin stopped sobbing and looked at me with a different look. Cold, assessing.
“Okay.” Her voice changed, harder. “You want the truth? Here it is.
Yes, I said those words. And yes, I meant them because you’re insufferable, dearree. You’ve always tried to control our lives.
Always thought you knew best how to live our lives, how to raise our children.”
“Siren,” Broen exclaimed. But she ignored him. “But that doesn’t give you the right to take our home away from us,” she continued.
“You gave it to us voluntarily. You can’t just change your mind because your feelings are hurt.”
“I can,” I said calmly. “And you know it, or you wouldn’t be so upset.
The law is on my side, Seren. Gross disrespect and ingratitude are sufficient grounds for revoking a gift.”
Her face paled with shock. She clearly hadn’t expected me to be so well informed of my rights.
“You’re bluffing,” she finally said. “There is no such law.”
“There is,” I smiled slightly. “Ask your lawyer.”
Serene shifted her gaze from me to Broen and back again as if looking for encouragement or a clue as to what to do next.
Finding neither, she went on the offensive again. “Oh, what are you going to do about the house?” she asked defiantly. “Live in it alone?
Sell it? Give it to someone else who will be more grateful.”
“It’s none of your business,” I replied. “Once the house is back in my possession, I’ll be free to use it as I please.”
“What about the children?” Serene changed tactics to emotional blackmail.
“Have you thought about them? How traumatizing this will be for them? The move again.
The new school.”
“You can’t use the kids as a manipulative tool,” I said firmly. “We both know you’re not worried about their well-being, but about losing your precious home.”
Saren jumped to her feet, her face contorted with anger. “You’re going to regret this, Dearra.” Her voice trembled.
“We’re not giving up the house without a fight. We have the means to hire the best lawyers, and when this is over, you’ll never see your grandchildren again, ever.”
With those words, she ran out of the cafe, leaving Broen and me in an awkward silence. “I’m sorry about that,” he finally said.
“Seren is very emotional right now.”
“Don’t apologize for her,” I replied. “She’s an adult and should be responsible for her words and actions.”
Rogan sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. “What are we going to do, Mom?
Seren won’t agree to vacate the house voluntarily, and a legal battle… it would destroy what’s left of our family.”
“It wasn’t my actions that destroyed our family,” I said quietly. “It was years of neglect and disrespect.”
He lowered his eyes, but I couldn’t see any real understanding or remorse in them. Just the confusion of a man trying to sit on two chairs.
“I’ll talk to her,” he said finally. “I’ll try to explain the situation.”
“Do whatever you think you need to do,” I replied without much hope. We parted in a tense atmosphere.
Broen went to look for Seren and I went home feeling a strange mixture of relief and anxiety. The confrontation I had been dreading had taken place and I had survived it better than I had expected. But I knew it was only the beginning of the battle.
A surprise awaited me at home. The blinking answering machine light showed 17 new messages. I pressed the play button and heard Seren’s voice, increasingly angry and hysterical from message to message.
“Dear Dree, it’s Seren. Call me back right away.”
“Dear Dre, you can’t just ignore me. We have to talk.”
“You think this is funny?
Taking the house away from your own son, from your grandchildren—”
And so on. Each message becoming more and more insulting and threatening. The last one was particularly disturbing.
“You don’t know what I’m capable of yet, dear Dre. If you think you can win this battle, you are sorely mistaken. I will destroy you.”
I deleted all the messages, feeling the resolve growing inside.
This woman had terrorized me for years, using my love for my son and grandchildren as leverage, but I wouldn’t let her do it again. The phone rang again. This time, it was Broen’s number.
I stared at the screen for a few seconds, wondering if I should answer. Finally, I decided it was better to know what I was dealing with. So I answered.
“Yes, Broen.”
“Mom,” his voice sounded strained. “Serene wants to talk to you again. We’re outside your house.
Can I come up?”
I hesitated. Part of me wanted to say no, to shut myself out of their drama, but the other part of me realized that the problem needed to be solved, not avoided. “Okay,” I finally said.
“Come on up.”
A couple minutes later, the doorbell rang. I opened it and saw Broen and Seren. She didn’t look disheveled and crying, but focused and determined.
Her eyes coldly appraised me as they entered the apartment. “Have a seat,” I pointed to the couch in the living room. They sat down next to each other, Sarin straight as a string, Broen slouching slightly as if trying to make himself smaller and more inconspicuous.
“I consulted a lawyer,” Sarin began without preamble. “He confirmed that theoretically the gift could be cancelled on the grounds of gross ingratitude, but it would be very difficult to prove in court.”
“My lawyer is of a different opinion,” I replied calmly. “He believes that the evidence is more than enough.”
“What evidence?” Sarin snorted.
“Your word against mine. You have no records, no witnesses.”
“There’s Emma,” I said. “She heard you tell Broen that there was no point in wasting time on an old woman when it came to me.”
Siren’s face paled slightly, but she quickly pulled herself together.
“The child’s words won’t carry much weight in court,” she said confidently. “Especially if the child is obviously manipulated by the grandmother.”
“That’s enough, Sarin,” Rogan said firmly. “There’s no need to threaten mommy with a lawsuit.”
Sarin gave him a sharp look, but continued, turning to me.
“Here’s what we’ll do. We’ll buy the house from you. We’ll pay full market value.
You get your money back, and we can all move on.”
“No,” I said simply. “I don’t want to sell you the house. I want it back.”
“But why?” Serena sounded genuinely puzzled.
“You don’t want it. It’s too big for one person. It needs care and the money.
You could use it to improve your life.”
“It’s not about practicality, Seren,” I said. “It’s about principle. You’ve shown me that you don’t appreciate my generosity, that you only see me as a source of money.
I won’t let you benefit from that attitude.”
Serene’s face contorted with anger, and she finally dropped the mask of a reasonable person ready to negotiate. “You want the principal?” she hissed. “Okay, here’s a principle.
If you don’t withdraw this stupid notice, you’ll never see your grandchildren again.”
“Organ, I’ll take care of it.”
“Siren,” Broen exclaimed. “You can’t say that.”
“I can,” she cut him off, “and I will. Or are you on her side?”
Broen shifted his gaze from his wife to me and back again, clearly torn between two loyalties.
And in that moment, I saw clearly that he would never choose my side. Would never stand up to Saren, no matter how cruel or unfair she was. He’s too weak for that.
“I think you should leave,” I said calmly. “My decision hasn’t changed. You have 30 days to vacate the house or we’ll meet in court.”
Siren stood up, her face contorted with rage.
“You’re going to regret this,” she hissed. “I swear you’ll regret it.”
Broen stood up too, looking completely lost. “Mom, please,” he started.
But I held up my hand, stopping him. “That’s enough, Broen. I’ve been there for you all my life, supporting you, helping you, and in return, I’ve been neglected and disrespected.
It’s over.”
Saran grabbed her husband’s hand and pulled him toward the door. “Let’s go,” she said. “There’s nothing more for us to do here.”
They left, slamming the door loudly.
I sank into the chair, feeling a strange emptiness inside. It had been a week since I’d had the last unpleasant conversation with Broen and Serene. During that time, my phone had been ringing off the hook with their calls, but I hadn’t answered.
I needed time to gather my thoughts and plan my next steps without the constant emotional pressure. Yesterday morning, I received a text from Crisabel that Broen had filed a petition with the court challenging the revocation of the gift. It wasn’t a surprise.
I knew Saran would push for a court battle, but I was prepared. My decision not to reinstate the gift remained firm. “How good are our chances?” I asked Crisel when I called him.
“Very good,” he replied confidently. “There’s nothing substantial in their claim. They’re trying to dispute the gross disrespect itself, claiming it was all a misunderstanding.
But we have the granddaughter’s testimony about her daughter-in-law’s words, as well as witnesses who saw how you were not allowed at the housewarming party. Plus, the mere fact that you were not invited to a party in the house you donated is already proof of ingratitude.”
This news strengthened my resolve. I wasn’t going to back down, even if it meant a public trial.
I’d been silent for too long, letting Serene and Broen neglect me. It was time to stand up for myself. The next step was deciding what to do with the house after I got it back.
It didn’t make sense to live in it alone. It was too big. It needed maintenance.
And frankly, I didn’t want to be in a space that would bring back painful memories. The solution came naturally: sell the house and use the money to provide for my old age. I called Heather, the realtor who was helping me with the purchase, and explained the situation.
“I’m sorry to hear you’re having trouble with your family,” she said. “But from a real estate market perspective, it’s a good time to sell. Prices in that neighborhood have only gone up since you bought it.”
We agreed that she would prepare all the necessary paperwork once the house was officially back in my possession.
The court hearing was scheduled for the following week, and if the ruling was in my favor, I could put the house on the market immediately. The call from Emma caught me off guard. My phone was showing an unknown number and I almost didn’t answer, thinking it might be Seren from a new phone, but something made me press the receive button.
“Grandma.” Emma’s voice sounded quiet, almost a whisper. “It’s me. I’m calling from a friend’s phone.”
“Emma, honey,” I was glad to hear her voice.
“How are you?”
“I’m fine,” she answered tentatively. “Things are… it’s hard at home right now. Mom and dad are fighting about the house all the time.
Mom says terrible things about you.”
I sighed. No wonder Saran was turning the kids against me. It was part of her nature to manipulate those around her.
“I’m sorry you’re going through this,” I said sincerely. “Adults don’t behave in the best way sometimes.”
“I know you’re right,” Emma said, suddenly firm. “Mom’s always been mean to you.
I heard her tell Daddy that they didn’t need you anymore since the house was already deed. It was nasty.”
I was touched by her support, but concerned at the same time. I didn’t want the conflict with Serena and Broen to reflect badly on Emma.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” I said softly. “But you don’t have to take sides. These are adult issues, and we have to deal with them ourselves.”
“But I’m not a child anymore,” she objected.
“I’m 13, and I see what’s going on. Mom used you to buy a house and then threw you away like an old toy. It’s not right.”
I was struck by her insight.
At 13, Emma saw the situation more clearly than her father. “You’re a very smart girl,” I said. “But I don’t want you to get in trouble with your mom for hanging out with me.”
“She doesn’t know.” Emma went back to whispering.
“I told her I was going to Jane’s to do a history project, but I wanted to see how you were doing and to tell you that I believe you, not them.”
We talked for a few more minutes. Emma told me that Seren was planning to hire an expensive lawyer and bankrupt grandma on legal fees. And Broen, though looking upset, wasn’t contradicting his wife.
I tried not to show how hurt I was by the news and instead asked my granddaughter about school, her friends, her hobbies. “I have to go,” Emma finally said. “Mom might start checking, but I’ll call again.”
“Okay.
Of course, honey,” I said. “Just be careful. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
After talking to Emma, I sat for a long time looking out the window at the evening Georgetown.
My granddaughter’s support meant more to me than she could have realized. Knowing that at least one family member saw the truth and was on my side was empowering. The next few days were spent preparing for the trial.
Crisel collected evidence, did paperwork, and prepared me for possible questions. I did my usual things, working at the library, meeting with friends, reading. I tried not to think constantly about the upcoming trial and possible consequences.
On Wednesday, two days before the hearing, the doorbell rang. I wasn’t expecting guests and cautiously approached the door, looking through the peephole. Broen stood on the doorstep alone, without Saran.
I hesitated whether to open it. Part of me wanted to ignore him like I’d ignored all their calls for the past week, but the other part was intrigued that he’d come alone. Maybe he’d finally decided to talk to me without Seren’s influence.
In the end, curiosity won out and I opened the door. “Mom.” Rogan looked exhausted. “Can I come in?
I need to talk to you.”
I stepped back silently, letting him inside. He made his way into the living room and sat on the couch, rubbing his hands together nervously. “How are you?” he asked after a pause.
“I’m fine,” I answered briefly. “What do you need, Broen?”
He sighed. “I came to ask you to withdraw the suit,” he said bluntly.
“This trial… it will destroy our family forever.”
“It wasn’t my actions that destroyed our family,” I said calmly. “It’s the way you and Serena have treated me all these years.”
“I know that we—that I—was wrong,” he lowered his eyes. “I should have treated you better, appreciated everything you did for us more.”
I watched my son carefully, trying to see the sincerity in his words, but all I saw was a man cornered, ready to say anything to get out of an unpleasant situation.
“And why did you suddenly realize that?” I asked. “Was it because there was a risk of losing the house?”
Rogan looked up and I saw a mixture of emotions in his eyes: shame, annoyance, fear. “It’s not fair, Mom,” he said.
“I’m really sorry for the way things turned out.”
“Regret your behavior or the consequences?” I insisted. “Because there’s a difference.”
He didn’t answer. And that was the most eloquent response.
“What did Serene think of your visit?” I asked, changing the subject. Broen flinched slightly. “She doesn’t know I’m here,” he admitted.
“She thinks it’s useless to talk to you. That the only way is to win in court.”
“And you don’t agree with her?”
“I just want this to be over,” he said tiredly. “Seren is furious.
The children are frightened. We’ve just moved and now we may have to look for a place to live again.”
“You have options,” I pointed out. “You can go back to your old house.”
“We sold it,” Rogan reminded me.
“The money had already been spent on loan repayments and new furniture.”
“Again, not my problem,” I said firmly. “You’re adults. You make decisions and you’re responsible for them.”
Rogan looked at me with an expression I couldn’t decipher—surprise, disappointment, respect.
“You’ve changed, Mom,” he finally said. “Before you were always giving in, always trying to smooth things over… now—”
“And now I’ve finally learned to stand up for myself,” I finished for him. “Yeah, I’ve changed for the better.”
He stood up, clearly realizing that this conversation wasn’t going to work.
“What should I tell Sarin?” he asked. “The truth,” I answered. “That I wouldn’t change my mind.
That the house will be returned to me and I plan to sell it.”
“Sell it?” Rogan looked surprised. “You’re not going to live in it? Why?”
“It’s too big for me alone.
Besides, I need money to provide for my old age, considering I spent most of my savings on a gift that wasn’t appreciated.”
Broen was silent, pondering my words. Then he nodded as if accepting the inevitable. “I see,” he said.
“Then I’ll see you in court, I guess.”
He headed for the door, but stopped halfway out. “Mom,” he began hesitantly. “If you win, will you still see the children?
Saren says he’ll forbid you from seeing them, but I don’t think that’s right.”
I felt my heart clench with pain. The thought of losing contact with my grandchildren was unbearable. But I wasn’t going to show weakness.
“It would depend on the children,” I said calmly. “If they want to communicate with me, I’ll always be glad to see them, but I won’t beg Serene for permission, and I won’t let her use the children as a tool of manipulation.”
Rogan nodded, and something like respect flashed in his eyes. “I understand,” he said.
“Yeah, I’ll try to convince her that the children can’t be deprived of their grandmother’s company, no matter what the outcome of the trial.”
“Thank you,” I thanked him sincerely. “It was the right thing to do.”
After Broen left, I sat for a long time thinking about our conversation. Part of me hoped that he would actually try to convince Seren not to separate the kids from me.
But the other part knew his words were unlikely to carry weight. Seren had always been able to insist, and Broen didn’t have the willpower to stand up to her. Friday was the court hearing.
I put on my best suit, did my hair neatly, and tried to look confident and collected. Crisel met me at the courthouse entrance. “Are you ready?” he asked, holding out his hand to me.
“As ready as I’d ever been,” I replied, gratefully accepting his encouragement. The hearing lasted only two hours. Crisel presented evidence of ingratitude: Emma’s testimony in writing since she was a minor; testimony from neighbors who’d seen me excluded from the housewarming party; printouts of Serene’s answering machine messages.
Broen and Serene’s attorney tried to challenge this evidence, claiming that everything was a misunderstanding and an emotional reaction to the stress of moving, but his argument sounded unconvincing. The judge, an elderly woman with a discerning eye, listened carefully to both sides, examined the documents, and ruled the gift was invalidated due to gross ingratitude on the part of the giver. The house must be returned to me within 30 days.
I felt a strange calmness on hearing this decision. Not triumph, not joy, but simply satisfaction at justice restored. Sarin, sitting on the other side of the room, looked stunned.
Broen put his hand on her shoulder, but she shook it off with a sharp movement. After the meeting, Crisel congratulated me on my victory. “You held up well, Deardra,” he said.
“Now that the house is officially yours, we can begin the selling process.”
“Thank you, Crisabel,” I thanked him sincerely for everything. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“You would have,” he smiled. “You’re stronger than you think.”
On the way home, I called Heather and told her that the court had ruled in my favor.
She was delighted and suggested we meet the next day to discuss the details of the sale. I agreed, feeling a sense of freedom growing inside. Soon, all this would be behind me and I could start a new chapter of my life.
There was a surprise waiting for me at home. There was a message from Emma on my answering machine. “Grandma, it’s me.
Just wanted to let you know I’m thinking of you today. I hope everything went well in court. I love you.”
Her voice, full of genuine concern, touched me to the core.
Despite all the conflicts with Broen and Serene, I hadn’t lost touch with my granddaughter. It was a small but significant victory. In the following weeks, I was busy with the paperwork on the house and preparing it for sale.
Broen and Saran vacated the property within two weeks of the court order—record time for people who so desperately didn’t want to lose it. They didn’t leave me the keys, just sent a message through Crisabel that the house was empty. When I first entered it after they left, I was shocked at the state of the premises.
It was obvious that they hadn’t cared about preservation. There were marks on the walls from removed paintings, scratches on the floor from moved furniture, and a broken faucet in one of the bathrooms—nothing that couldn’t be fixed, but enough to show their attitude. Heather assured me that these minor damages wouldn’t affect the price much.
“The market is booming right now,” she said. “And this neighborhood is especially in demand. We can start showing next week as soon as we finish cosmetic repairs.”
And she was right.
The house sold just a month after the first showing for a price that exceeded my expectations. After paying all the expenses, taxes, realtor’s commission, renovation costs, I was left with a substantial amount of money that would provide me with a comfortable life for years to come. I decided to use this money wisely.
I invested part of it in safe bonds and conservative investment funds. Crisel had recommended a good financial adviser. I put another part in a bank account as a safety cushion and a small amount spent on myself—bought a new laptop, a few beautiful dresses, tickets to the theater, which I had long dreamed of.
In all this time, Broen called me only once to inform me of the new address where they had settled with Saran and the children. The conversation was short and formal, without reproach, but also without warmth. I wrote down the address, thanked him for the information, and that was the end of our conversation.
Saren predictably had not been in touch. I learned from Emma that she had forbidden the children to mention my name in the house and had deleted all pictures of me, but Emma herself had found a way to keep in touch. She called me from her friends’ phones or from school, sometimes writing emails from a secret address.
I valued this connection, but tried not to put her at risk of getting in trouble with her mother. We agreed that she would call or write when she could, and I would respond, but not initiate contact myself so as not to cause trouble. Surprisingly, after all this upheaval, I felt freer, as if I had shed the heavy burden I had carried for years—the burden of having to please, to give in, to sacrifice my own interest for the illusion of family harmony.
Now I was living by my own rules. I took the photography courses I’d long dreamed of taking, spent more time with real friends—those who valued me for who I was, not for what I could give—traveled small trips around the neighborhood. Nothing extravagant, but enough to see new places and expand my horizons.
Sometimes, of course, I missed what I had lost. The dream of a happy, close-knit family. The opportunity to see my grandchildren grow up.
The role of mother and grandmother, which was an important part of my identity. But I didn’t regret my decision. It was the right one.
I deserved respect. And when I didn’t get it, I had the strength to stand up for my dignity. It was worth it.
And as for Broen and Serena, well, they made their choice and now they’re living with the consequences, just like I’ve had to live with mine. The only difference was that my choices brought me peace and self-respect. And their choices—well, that wasn’t my question.
