Chapter 1: The Dinner Where Everything Changed
"No wonder you're single. No woman would put up with you.""
Mia said it while chewing the chicken I had spent two hours preparing, sitting comfortably at the dinner table inside the apartment I paid for.
For a moment, I thought I had misunderstood her.
The room seemed to go strangely quiet. The ticking clock above the kitchen counter suddenly sounded louder than the conversation that had been happening seconds before.
Then my stepmother Karen laughed.
Not a small laugh.
A loud, careless laugh.
She covered her mouth with one hand, nearly spilling her wine onto the tablecloth.
"She's not wrong," Karen said.
I looked from Mia to Karen, waiting for one of them to realize what they had just done.
Neither did.
Mia leaned back in her chair, completely relaxed. She had my old apartment chair pushed against the wall behind her, the same chair she had moved into my living room months ago because she said her room "needed more space.""
She looked at me like I was the embarrassing one.
"I'm just being honest, Thomas," she said.
"You act like you're some perfect catch, but you're not. You're too serious. You work all the time.
You never go anywhere. You barely know how to have fun.""
Karen nodded while taking another sip of wine.
"Your sister has a point. Sometimes people need to hear the truth.""
I stared at the two people sitting across from me.
People I had spent years helping.
People who had somehow convinced themselves that my kindness was proof I was weak.
I slowly placed my fork down.
The metal hitting the plate made a small sound.
But it was enough.
Mia stopped talking.
Karen looked up.
I looked directly at my sister.
"Must be nice living rent-free.""
Her eyebrows lifted.
For the first time that evening, she looked slightly uncomfortable.
"What?""
I let the silence sit there.
One second.
Two.
Three.
Then I smiled.
"Oh, wait.""
I leaned back in my chair.
"Not anymore.""
Mia blinked.
"Thomas—"
"You're out of my apartment by tomorrow.""
The entire table froze.
Karen's glass stopped halfway to her mouth.
Mia stared at me like I had started speaking another language.
"You can't be serious.""
"I've never been more serious.""
She laughed nervously.
"You wouldn't kick your own sister out.""
I looked around the apartment.
The apartment I had saved for.
The apartment where I had spent weekends painting walls, assembling furniture, and eating cheap dinners because I wanted something that belonged to me.
Then I looked back at her.
"You've been here for fourteen months, Mia.""
"So?""
"So temporary means temporary.""
Karen immediately jumped in.
"Thomas, don't be dramatic.""
I turned toward her.
"Dramatic?""
She sighed like I was a difficult child.
"Your sister was going through a hard time. Family helps family.""
I nodded slowly.
"You're right. Family helps family.""
I pointed around the room.
"And I've been helping.""
Nobody answered.
Because they knew I was right.
I'm Thomas. I'm twenty-nine years old, and for most of my life, I was the person everyone depended on.
If someone needed a ride from the airport, I was there.
If someone needed money before payday, I transferred it.
If someone had a problem at midnight, my phone was the first one they called.
I used to think being needed meant being loved.
I didn't understand that some people only loved what they could take from you.
I grew up believing family came first.
After my dad passed away when I was younger, Karen became the person who held our family together.
At least, that's what I believed.
She raised Mia and me under the same roof, but somewhere along the way, things became different.
Mia was the emotional one.
The one everyone protected.
The one who "needed more support.""
I was the responsible one.
The one who could handle anything.
And because I could handle anything, everyone assumed I didn't need anything.
A few years ago, I got my IT job.
It wasn't glamorous, but it paid well.
I worked long hours, saved aggressively, and avoided wasting money.
While my friends were traveling and buying expensive cars, I was putting money away for a simple dream.
My own place.
When I finally bought my apartment, I stood in the empty living room for almost an hour.
There was no furniture.
No decorations.
Just white walls and a quiet feeling I had never experienced before.
Peace.
Then Mia called.
She had broken up with her boyfriend.
She was crying.
She said she had nowhere to go.
"Just a couple of months," she promised.
Those words should have warned me.
A couple of months became six months.
Six months became a year.
And eventually, my apartment stopped feeling like my home.
Her clothes appeared everywhere.
Her makeup covered my bathroom counter.
Her friends came over without asking.
They drank my drinks, ate my food, and laughed loudly while I sat in my bedroom trying to work.
When I asked Mia about rent, she acted offended.
"Wow, Thomas. Really?""
That was her favorite response.
Not an explanation.
Not a solution.
Just making me feel guilty for asking.
Karen always backed her up.
"You have a stable job," Karen would say.
"Why are you counting every dollar with your own sister?""
But nobody asked why Mia wasn't counting any dollars at all.
Nobody asked why I was expected to sacrifice while she lived comfortably.
That night, though, something changed.
Maybe it was the way Mia looked at me.
Maybe it was hearing Karen laugh.
Maybe it was finally realizing that no matter how much I gave, they would always expect more.
Mia pushed her chair back.
"You'll regret this.""
I looked at her.
"No, Mia. I'll regret letting it continue.""
She narrowed her eyes.
"You think you're better than us now because you bought an apartment?""
I shook my head.
"No. I think I deserve to live in the home I paid for.""
Karen stood up.
"This conversation is over.""
I looked at her.
"You're right.""
She seemed surprised.
"Good.""
I nodded.
"It is.""
Then I walked toward my bedroom.
Behind me, I heard Mia whisper something to Karen.
I couldn't make out the words.
But I knew from their voices that they weren't planning to apologize.
They were planning something else.
And when I woke up the next morning, I found out exactly what it was.
Because sitting on my kitchen counter was a printed document with my name on it.
May you like
And underneath my name was a sentence that made my stomach drop.
"Notice of claim regarding apartment ownership...""
