A year after my mum died, I came home to find my suitcases standing by the door and a stranger in my late mum’s dressing gown lying in the living room. Her ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend was smirking and telling me it was time for me to leave, but she had no idea whose house she was actually in.
I swung the front door open and a suitcase rolled in behind me. The house smelled like cheap perfume and something greasy. It didn’t feel right. My mum always kept the house clean, warm and familiarly cosy.
Then I saw two large suitcases stacked neatly by the door. My suitcases. I froze. My pulse pounded in my ears.
Had someone broken in? No. The door hadn’t been forced. The house looked lived in. Then I heard the sound of the television.
I stepped into the living room and froze.
A woman was sitting cross-legged on the couch, smirking. She held a wine glass in one hand and a remote control in the other, switching channels as if the place belonged to her. But the worst part?
She was wearing her mum’s dressing gown.
The woman turned to me and scanned me from head to toe like I was a delivery she hadn’t ordered.
‘Oh,’ she said with a laugh. ‘You’re back sooner than I thought.’
‘Who are you?’ My voice came out sharper than I expected.
She stretched out on the couch, perfectly still. ‘I’m Vanessa. Rick’s fiancée.’
Rick. My mum’s ex. The man I let stay here out of respect for her last wish.
I clenched my jaw. ‘Where’s Rick?’
Vanessa sipped her wine, looking pleased with herself. ‘Oh, he’s away on business. But he told me about you.’ She set her glass on the coffee table – my mother’s coffee table. ‘Look, honey, Rick and I talked, and we really need some alone time. You understand, right?’
I stared at her. My brain refused to take in what she was saying. Did she need this space?
‘This is my house,’ I said slowly.
Vanessa laughed. ‘Oh, sweetie. I know it was nice of Rick to let you stay here, but come on. You’re a grown woman now. It’s time to move on.’
I gritted my teeth. ‘Rick doesn’t own this house.’
She waved her hand dismissively. ‘Oh, we’ll get those legal matters settled soon enough. In fact, the lawyer will be here in about an hour to explain everything.’
I had to restrain the trembling in my hands. Legal matters?
I inhaled sharply. Vanessa was watching me, expecting tears, pleading, anger-something she could mock. I gave her none of those things. Instead, I met her smug look and said: ‘Then I’ll wait.’
Vanessa’s smile wavered for a second. Just for a second. Then she shrugged. ‘Suit yourself.’
I sank into the chair across from her, arms crossed, with my heart pounding. She smirked and went back to watching TV, acting like I was the one who had invaded her life.
I remembered sitting in the hospital room, silent and waiting. Mum’s voice was weak, but her hand squeezed mine.
‘This house is yours, honey,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve got it all set up. You won’t have to worry.’
I swallowed back tears. ‘Okay, Mum.’
She sighed, glancing at the door. I knew who she was thinking about. Rick.
‘Just…don’t kick him out right away,’ she mumbled. ‘He needs time to figure things out.’
I wanted to tell her that Rick had had years to figure things out. He was forty-two, unemployed, and had been ‘figuring things out’ for as long as I’d known him.
But my mother was dying. I couldn’t argue with her.
So I nodded. ‘I won’t.’
She smiled, squeezed my hand again, and closed her eyes. A week later, she was gone.
I had honoured her last wish, and it was my mistake. Rick wouldn’t leave.
First he said he needed a month until he was back on his feet. Then one month turned into three. Three turned into six.
I was barely on my feet – grieving, working, trying to figure out college – and Rick? He acted like he owned everything here.
It was little things at first. Sitting in her chair, flipping through the TV channels like he was king of the house. Leaving beer cans on the counter. Making remarks about what I ‘should’ do with his space.
Then things started to get more serious. One day I discovered that pictures of my mother were missing from the mantel. Another day he started bringing people over to visit without asking.
By the time I left for my college preparatory programme, I felt like a stranger in my own home. But I still thought: maybe when I got back, he’d finally leave.
Now, looking at Vanessa sitting in my living room in her mother’s dressing gown, I realised something. Rick had never planned on leaving.
And now he considered me a guest.
I sat crossed my arms and stared at the TV screen while Vanessa pretended I didn’t exist.
Rick had come back about twenty minutes before, all smug and satisfied, like he’d already won. He barely looked at me, just kissed Vanessa on the cheek, and then sank down on the couch next to her.
‘Well, I guess she got the news,’ he said, nodding in my direction.
Vanessa laughed. ‘Yeah, and she took it so well.’
Rick stretched his arms above his head like it was another lazy day at his house. ‘Kid, don’t make this any harder than it has to be. We’ve given you plenty of time. Thought you’d be more mature about it.’
The doorbell rang. I stood up. ‘It’ll be the lawyer.’
Rick frowned. ‘What?’
I walked past him, opened the door, and let the man in. He was older, dressed in a strict suit and carried a leather briefcase. He barely graced Rick with a glance before pulling out a thick stack of papers.
‘My name is Mr Thompson,’ he said. ‘I was your mother’s lawyer.’ He turned to me. ‘You are the legal owner of this house. These papers prove it.’
Rick’s smile disappeared. ‘Wait, what?’
Mr Thompson flipped through the papers, calmly and methodically. ‘Your mother’s will is crystal clear. This property, as well as all assets, belongs solely to her daughter.’ He adjusted his glasses and looked directly at Rick. ‘You have no legal rights to this house.’
Vanessa sat up. ‘That can’t be true,’ she snapped back. ‘Rick told me…’ She turned to him, narrowing her eyes. ‘You told me this place belonged to you.’
Rick’s face was pale. ‘I…I mean, I thought…’
‘You lied to me?’ shrieked Vanessa.
Rick stuttered, but she had already grabbed her purse.
‘Oh, hell no,’ she hissed, standing up. ‘You drag me into this and you don’t even own the damn house?’ She whirled on me, but there was no arrogance in her eyes anymore. Only embarrassment.
‘I’m out of here,’ she muttered and headed for the door.
Rick rushed after her. ‘Baby, wait…’
The door slammed shut.
For the first time all evening, Rick looked nervous. He turned to me again. ‘Listen, baby…’
I held up a hand. ‘Stop calling me ‘baby’.’
He sighed, rubbing his face. ‘Okay, look. We can work something out.’ He gestured around. ‘I’ve lived here for a year. That’s got to count for something.’
Mr Thompson adjusted his glasses. ‘Actually, it counts. You’re illegally occupying this property without a lease. If you don’t leave voluntarily, the owner has every right to charge you with trespassing.’
Rick swallowed.
‘Press charges?’ I repeated, tilting my head. ‘Is that an option?’
Rick’s eyes widened. ‘Whoa, let’s not get crazy.’
There was a knock on the door. I didn’t even have to move this time – Mr Thompson did. He opened it and saw two uniformed police officers.
‘Sir,’ one of them addressed Rick. ‘You have twenty-four hours to leave the premises.’
Rick ran a hand through his hair, shifting his gaze from the officers to me. ‘And where do you expect me to go?’
I shrugged. ‘Not my problem.’
An officer stepped forward. ‘Sir, I suggest you start packing.’
Rick didn’t argue any further.
That night I sat in my room listening to the sounds of drawers opening, boxes being rearranged, and packages being dragged across the floor. I thought I would feel relief, victory, or anger.
But I felt nothing.
I lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. It had taken a whole year to get to this place. A whole year of watching Rick take over my house, acting like I was the only one who didn’t belong.
Now I don’t anymore.
I must have fallen asleep, because when I opened my eyes, the house was silent.
For the first time in a year, the house was mine.
I sat in the centre of the room, gazing into it. The silence wasn’t eerie. It was peaceful.
I walked over to the fireplace. My mother’s picture was in its place. I’d found it in a drawer, tucked behind Rick’s pile of useless junk. I ran my fingers over the frame.
‘I did it, Mum,’ I whispered.
Some people mistake kindness for weakness. But standing up for yourself? That’s how I got my power back.
