My mother died a year ago. I gave them a reality check, but her ex still lives in our home and brought his new girlfriend to kick me out.

When I came home a year after my mother’s death, I discovered my bags at the door and a stranger sitting in my living room, dressed in my mother’s robe. She had no idea whose house she was actually at, but her ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend grinned and told me it was time for me to go.

My suitcase rolled in after me as I pulled open the front door. The stench of something oily and cheap perfume filled the house. That was incorrect. The apartment was always cozy, clean, and familiar thanks to my mom.

Then I noticed two big luggage packed neatly by the door. My bags. I went cold. My ears throbbed with my heartbeat.

Was there a break-in? No. It wasn’t a forced door. It appeared to have been inhabited. I heard the TV at that moment.

I froze when I entered the living room.

A woman smirked as she sat on the couch with her legs crossed. She flipped through the channels as if she owned the house, holding a wine glass in one hand and the remote in the other. The worst part, though?

My mother’s robe was on her.

The woman turned to face me, her gaze moving up and down me as if I were an unordered delivery.

She laughed and said, “Oh.” “You returned sooner than I anticipated.”

“Who are you?” I was surprised at how piercing my voice sounded.

Completely relaxed, she sprawled out on the couch. “My name is Vanessa. Rick’s fiance.

Rick. My mother’s former partner. In honor of her final request, I would allow the man to remain here.

I tightened my jaw. “Where is Rick?”

Vanessa seemed happy with herself as she sipped her wine. He’s out running errands, I see. However, he told me everything about you. She placed her glass on the coffee table, which was my mother’s. “Look, my love, after our conversations, Rick and I truly need some space to ourselves right now. You get it, don’t you?

I gazed at her. Her remarks were too difficult for my brain to process. Did she require this room?

“This is my home,” I uttered gradually.

In fact, Vanessa laughed. “Oh, sweetheart. Come on, even though I know Rick was being kind by letting you stay here. You’ve matured into a woman. The moment has come to move on.

I tightened my jaw. “This house is not owned by Rick.”

She dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “Oh, we’ll take care of all that legal business shortly enough. Actually, the attorney will be here to go over everything in about an hour.

I had to control my trembling hands. Legal matters?

I took a deep breath. Vanessa kept an eye on me, waiting for me to cry, beg, or get angry so she could make fun of me. I didn’t give it to her. Rather, I looked into her arrogant eyes and replied, “Then I’ll wait.”

Vanessa’s smile wavered momentarily. Only a moment. She then gave a shrug. “Adjust yourself.”

With my arms folded and my heart racing, I sunk into the chair across from her. With a sly smile, she resumed watching TV as if I had interrupted.

I recalled sitting quietly and waited in a hospital room. Despite her feeble voice, my mother squeezed my hand.

She said, “This house is yours, sweetheart.” “I organized everything. You won’t need to be concerned.

I suppressed my tears. “All right, Mom.”

Her eyes darted to the door as she sighed. I was aware of the person she was considering. Rick.

She whispered, “Just… don’t throw him out right away.” “He needs time to get his bearings.”

Rick had years to work things out, I wanted to tell her. He had been “figuring things out” for as long as I had known him, was forty-two, and was unemployed.

However, my mom was dying. I was unable to dispute her.

I gave a nod. “I refuse to.”

She closed her eyes, grinned, and clasped my palm once more. She vanished a week later.

I made the error of fulfilling her final request. Rick stayed.

He initially stated that it would take him a month to recover. Then a month became three months. Three became six.

Rick? I was struggling to preserve my composure while grieving, working, and figuring out college. He pretended to be the owner.

At start, it was small things. Flipping through TV stations while seated in her chair as if he were the head of the household. Beer cans left on the counter. expressing opinions about how I “should” use his space.

Then the larger things arrived. I discovered my mother’s photos missing from the mantle one day. He began inviting folks over without asking on another day.

I felt alienated in my own house by the time I departed for my college preparatory course. Even so, I reasoned that perhaps he would be gone by the time I returned.

I became aware of something as I looked at Vanessa, who was seated in my living room and was dressed in my mother’s robe. Rick had no intention of leaving.

He now believed that I was the visitor.

Vanessa acted as though I didn’t exist while I sat there with my arms crossed and my eyes fixed on the TV.

About twenty minutes prior, Rick had come back, feeling smug and content, as if he had already won. He kissed Vanessa on the cheek and then sank down on the couch next to her, hardly even looking at me.

“I suppose she received the news,” he replied, nodding in my direction.

Vanessa chuckled. “Yes, and she’s handling it really well.”

As if this were simply another leisurely afternoon at home, Rick threw his arms across his head. “Kid, don’t make things more difficult than they need to be. You had plenty of time. I assumed you would be responsible for this.

The doorbell rang. I got up. “That will be the attorney.”

Rick scowled. “What?”

The man entered after I passed by him and opened the door. He was older, had a leather briefcase, and wore a dapper suit. He drew out a huge stack of papers, hardly even looking at Rick.

He introduced himself as Mr. Thompson. “I was the lawyer for your mother.” He faced me. “This house legally belongs to you. These records attest to that.

Rick’s grin disappeared. “What?” “What?”

Calm and deliberate, Mr. Thompson leafed over the documents. “Your mother’s wishes are extremely obvious. Her daughter alone is the rightful owner of this land and all other assets. After adjusting his glasses, he turned to face Rick. “This house is not legally yours.”

Vanessa took a seat. “That isn’t feasible,” she yelled. “Rick informed me—” Her eyes narrowed as she turned to face him. “You claimed to be the owner of this place.”

Rick’s face had gone white. “I—I mean, I believed—”

“You misled me?” Vanessa let out a cry.

Rick stumbled, but she had already reached for her handbag.

She stood up and shouted, “Oh, hell no.” “You don’t even own the damn house, and you pulled me into this mess?” She spun around on me, but her eyes were no longer haughty. Simply humiliation.

She mumbled, “I am so out of here,” and then stomped to the door.

Rick rushed to catch up with her. “Wait, baby—”

The door slammed.

Rick appeared anxious for the first time during the evening. He faced me once again. “Observe, child—”

I extended a hand. “Stop referring to me as a kid.”

He rubbed his face and moaned. “All right, pay attention. We can figure something out. He pointed around. It’s been a year since I moved here. That must be taken into consideration.

Mr. Thompson’s glasses were adjusted. In fact, it does. Without a lease, you have been inhabiting this property illegally. The owner has the right to file charges for trespassing if you don’t leave on your own volition.

Rick took a swallow.

“Pressing charges?” I tilted my head and repeated. “Is that a possibility?”

Rick’s eyes got bigger. “Whoa, we must not lose our minds.”

A knock on the door was heard. Mr. Thompson did the moving this time, so I didn’t even have to. When he unlocked it, two police officers in uniform were inside.

One of them addressed Rick as “Sir.” “You have a full day to vacate the premises.”

Rick glanced from the cops to me and combed his hair. “And where do you think I’ll go?”

I gave a shrug. “It’s not my problem.”

The policeman moved forward. “I advise you to begin packing, sir.”

Rick stopped arguing.

I listened to the noises of drawers opening, boxes moving, and bags being dragged across the floor while I sat in my room that evening. I expected to feel wrath, relief, or victory.

I had no feelings.

While lying on my bed, I gazed up at the ceiling. Getting here had taken a whole year. For a whole year, I watched Rick take over my house and act as like I didn’t belong.

No more.

The home was quiet when I opened my eyes, so I guess I must have fallen asleep.

The house was mine for the first time in a year.

I took it all in while sitting in the middle of the room. The quiet wasn’t unsettling. It was quiet.

I approached the mantle. The photo of my mother was restored in its proper place. I had discovered it hidden under a number of Rick’s pointless belongings in a drawer. I touched the frame with my fingers.

I murmured, “Mom, I did it.”

Kindness can sometimes interpreted as weakness. But advocating for myself? That’s how I regained my authority.

Although this work has been fictionalized for artistic reasons, it is based on actual individuals and events. To preserve privacy and improve the story, names, characters, and specifics have been altered. Any likeness to real people, real or deceased, or real events is entirely accidental and not the author’s intention.