Part 2

My dad had sold his Honda Civic, the car he had taken care of like a cherished member of the family for over a decade. He used to wash it meticulously every Saturday, even though he barely drove it after my mother passed away, because he had driven her to all her hospital appointments in that exact car during her illness.

“Dad, I really can’t accept this from you,” I said, feeling a tight lump forming in my throat as I looked at the money.

“Of course you can, sweetheart, because the bus stops just two blocks away, and that car was costing me unnecessary insurance, maintenance, and battery fees just sitting parked,” my dad insisted, though we both knew it was a total lie.

Lucas was deeply suspicious about where the money came from, but my dad firmly refused to sign any loan agreements with us. He transferred the funds as a direct gift to me and insisted that the house deed be placed solely under my name, saying a daughter should always own something of her own, especially since he would be living there as an investor with daily coffee rights.

We officially signed the purchase papers two days before the sellers’ deadline. We moved in that December, where my dad took the spacious downstairs room while converting an old storage room into his personal carpentry workshop.

Lucas threw himself into renovating the place, rewiring the electrical systems, replacing the water heater, and fixing half the house with his own hands until he walked through the front door with true pride. In March, Lucas received his big contract payment and immediately brought $30,000 cash over to my dad’s workshop.

My dad pushed the stack of cash right back across the workbench and said, “What is given to a daughter can never be repaid.”

Months later, my in-laws came over to tour the new house, walking through every room while Brenda asked endless lingering questions. She asked how much we paid, why the house was registered only in my name, and why my dad got such a large room on the ground floor.

“He has that room because he actually lives here with us,” I replied with a calm smile.

In October, news arrived that changed everything for everyone, as my in-laws suddenly decided to sell their primary suburban home. Brenda explained over the phone that they would use a massive portion of the money for Penelope’s cosmetic surgeries and then buy a tiny condo for her later on.

Lucas froze in utter disbelief and asked, “Did they seriously sell their only house just to pay for cosmetic surgery?”

“Your sister desperately needs a real chance in life, and you already have a spacious home of your own,” Brenda replied casually.

However, the medical procedures went horribly wrong due to post-surgery complications. At first, the doctors claimed it was just temporary inflammation, but soon came a second corrective surgery, a third procedure, expensive medications, high short-term rent near the medical clinic, and long agonizing months of recovery that drained their savings completely.

They ended up forfeiting their deposit on a small apartment they could no longer afford. By December, Brenda started calling my phone every two days, constantly asking if our house felt too cold, if my dad’s large room was still occupied, and whether an older man really needed that much space to himself.

I knew exactly where her subtle questions were leading. On December 29th, our front doorbell rang loudly, and when I opened the door, my in-laws were standing on the porch with two huge suitcases.

Penelope stood squeezed between them, wearing an oversized cap and a post-operative medical mask that barely revealed her swollen eyes. Brenda aggressively pushed a suitcase right across the threshold and announced, “We’ve come to stay because we have nowhere else to live, and you clearly have plenty of space here.”

Lucas appeared behind me in the hallway, and out of pure childhood habit, he stepped aside to let his parents walk right in. I immediately grabbed his arm to stop him, deciding that before anyone stepped over that threshold, I was going to reveal a truth that Lucas had been kept completely blind to for almost two full years.

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