My parents gave their house to my sister as a wedding gift, despite the fact
My parents gave their house to my sister as a wedding gift.
I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on me. For years, I had played the dutiful daughter—quiet, reliable, always there when they needed me. Meanwhile, Lily, the golden child, basked in their affection. But this time, the betrayal cut deeper than ever. It wasn’t about the house—it was about being invisible.
“Keep it,” I said, pushing the envelope back toward Mark. “We need to start thinking about ourselves now.”
The words tasted strange, foreign even, but right. For too long, I had lived in their shadow, shouldering responsibilities they barely noticed. It was time to stop.
Just as the resolve began to settle in, the phone rang, shattering the silence.
“I hope you’re not upset about the house, Tessa,” my mother’s voice came through, soft but rehearsed. “We thought it was the right thing to do—Lily’s been through so much.”
I gripped the phone, anger rising. “What about what I’ve been through, Mom? I paid that mortgage for years. Did that mean nothing to you?”
The line went silent. Her silence said everything.
Two months later, they called again—with another request.
“We were wondering if we could stay in your vacation home for a while,” my father said casually. “Just until things settle down here.”
I hesitated, but the answer was already clear. “I’m sorry, but that’s not possible,” I said firmly.
His tone changed instantly. “After everything we’ve done for you, this is how you repay us?”
“I’ve done plenty for you,” I replied, my voice shaking but steady. “This is my space—my sanctuary.”
The call ended abruptly. Guilt lingered, but beneath it, there was relief. For the first time, I was protecting my own peace.
Or so I thought.