When Carina’s parents kicked her out of the house during high school, she had no choice but to fend for herself. Years later, after building a successful career and preparing for her wedding, she reached out to them. Instead of a warm reunion, they barged into her life demanding a share of what she had worked so hard to achieve.
“I don’t see why you can’t both be happy,” my mom said, dunking a cookie into her lukewarm tea. “Why waste your time on those computers? They won’t make your life easier.”
That was nothing new. My parents never supported my passion for computers. When school was ending, I planned to study information technology in college.
“For what, cyber security?” my dad scoffed, sitting down with a pork chop. “Saving lives, Carina, that’s real success—not playing on computers.”
“Cyber security protects important information, Dad,” I’d reply, rolling my eyes. “It’s how countries keep people safe.”
“It’s not good enough,” my mom would say from the kitchen sink.
After graduation, they kicked me out.
“You chose this path, so you can take care of yourself,” my mom said when I bought IT textbooks.
“That’s not fair,” I shot back. “You let Jade live here throughout her whole degree.”
“She was learning to save lives,” Mom said.
Fast forward 13 years: I have a thriving career, a beautiful home, and a loving fiancé, Mark.
“Are you sure you want to invite your parents to the wedding?” I asked Mark one evening.
“Yes, love,” he said, holding my hand. “You’ve come so far on your own, and I’m proud of you.”
“But they were awful to me,” I said. “They kicked me out when I started college. I worked as a dog groomer just to afford rent.”
“I get that,” Mark said gently. “But you made it. This is your home now, and you deserve to celebrate.”
Eventually, I invited them.
When they arrived, they were shocked by my home—they assumed I rented a room, never imagined I owned the whole place.
“Carina, you own this entire house?” my dad exclaimed.
“Yes, I do,” I replied, helping my mom with her bag. “I worked hard for it.”
“I didn’t expect this,” my sister said, looking around.
That evening, as dinner plans were underway with Mark’s parents soon to arrive, entitlement surfaced.
My mom scanned the living room and declared, “We deserve to live comfortably after everything we did for you.”
I was stunned. “This is my home. I bought it. You did nothing for me after high school.”
“But we’re your parents,” she argued. “We should live better than our kids.”
I snapped, “Jade still lives with you because you wanted to take care of her. You didn’t care about me. This isn’t my responsibility.”
My dad stepped in, arms crossed.
“After all we sacrificed, this is the least you can do.”
“Jade needs a place too,” Mom added.
“She’s an adult who made her choice,” I said sharply, feeling bad because Jade was just sitting there quietly.
When I was kicked out, Jade stayed with them and barely kept in touch, texting only on birthdays and Christmas.
Then the door opened, and Mark’s parents arrived.
“We’ve been listening,” Tom said.
“Carina earned everything here,” my future mother-in-law, Carol, said firmly. “She worked hard, and she deserves it all.”
My mom snapped, “Who are you? This is our daughter’s home, so it belongs to us.”
Carol smiled, unshaken. “Where were you all these years? You can’t claim credit now. Carina earned it.”
My parents fell silent, and Jade looked down.
“Carina invited you to celebrate her wedding, not to criticize her or claim her success,” Tom said.
“She owes respect, but not her home,” Carol added.
“We’re her family!” Mom protested, shocked at their pushback.
“Only by blood,” Mark said as he entered. “Families support one another; you’ve only held her back.”
Carol continued, “We’re so proud of Carina. She’s everything I hoped for.”
Mark wrapped his arm around me.
I looked at my parents, seeing the realization dawn.
“I love you,” I said, “but this is my life. You just came back and are already demanding things. I’ve worked too hard to lose it.”
Dad sighed.
“We didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Then respect my choice,” I said softly. “Be at the wedding, but after that, go your own way.”
Afterwards, my parents seemed to understand, a little.
Dinner was quiet except for Mark and my in-laws, who complimented me on my dress.
I smiled, feeling lucky—not just for Mark, but for his parents.
I noticed my mom’s face fall, but I couldn’t comfort her.
We parted ways with my parents and sister.
“We’ll see you at the wedding,” Dad said as he left.
“Yes,” I replied. “See you then.”
Let’s see what happens at my wedding.
What would you have done?
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