“I Didn’t Invite You,” My Daughter-in-Law Said Calmly – In the House I Built and At the Table I Paid For.

“I am not confused,”

I said firmly.

“I am perfectly lucid and I am telling you that this house is not for sale. Not now, not ever. So you can leave.”

Mr. Gaines looked at his briefcase and he cleared his throat.

“Well, if the owner doesn’t agree, I can’t do anything. I’m sorry. I can’t work on a property without the owner’s consent. It’s illegal. So I think it’s best if I go. You all need to resolve this among yourselves first.”

He left. Chloe was furious.

Her eyes were shooting fire.

“What did you do?”

she asked me.

“I protected what’s mine.”

“This isn’t going to end here, Eleanor. I swear to you, you are going to regret this.”

“You are going to see what it’s like to be left alone with no one, with nothing. Because that’s what’s going to happen. Dan and I are going to leave.”

“And you’re going to be left here alone in this empty house without family, without anyone to visit you, without anyone who loves you. Is that what you want? To die alone?”

I looked her in the eyes without fear, without doubt.

“If it means keeping my dignity,”

I said,

“then yes. I’d rather die alone.”

The Final Farewell and a New Beginning

The weeks that followed were the most tense of my life. Dan and Kloe stopped speaking to me completely.

They came in and out of the house as if I didn’t exist. They ate out.

They came home late. They locked themselves in their room.

The house was full of people, but I had never felt so alone. But it was a different kind of loneliness.

It wasn’t the loneliness of feeling invisible. It was the loneliness of having chosen myself, and that in some strange way gave me peace.

Sharon came to visit me every day. We drank coffee.

We talked. She reminded me that I had done the right thing, that I had the right to defend what was mine.

One night, 3 weeks after all this, I heard Dan and Kloe arguing in their room. The walls were thin; I could hear every word.

“I can’t take it anymore,”

Chloe was saying.

“I can’t live like this with her here looking at us, judging us as if we’re the bad guys when all we’ve done is try to build a life.”

“She’s the one ruining everything with her stubbornness, with her selfishness. I need you to make a decision, Dan. It’s her or me.”

“Because I can’t go on like this. I am not going to keep living in a house where I’m not welcome, where I’m treated like an intruder.”

“Chloe, she’s my mother,”

Dan said.

His voice sounded tired, defeated.

“And I’m your wife! What am I to you? Don’t I matter? Doesn’t my happiness count?”

“We’ve been living here for years. Years of putting up with it. Years of waiting for her to come to her senses. But she’s not going to. She’s going to keep clinging to this house until she dies.”

“And in the meantime what? We just stay here? Unable to live our lives? Unable to have kids because we don’t have space? Unable to breathe because she’s always there controlling everything?”

There was a long silence.

“What do you want me to do?”

Dan finally asked.

“I want you to make a decision. To choose her or me. Because I can’t anymore. I’m leaving, Dan. With or without you, but I’m leaving.”

“I already found an apartment. It’s small but it’s ours. Or it will be mine if you decide to stay here with your mother. But I’m leaving this week and I need to know if you’re coming with me or if you’re staying.”

The silence that followed was worse than any words. The next day, Dan came to talk to me.

It was Saturday morning. I was watering the plants in the garden, the same plants I had cared for for years—the roses, the lemon tree, everything that had grown with me in this house.

“Mom,”

he said.

He looked tired. He had dark circles under his eyes.

It was clear he hadn’t slept well.

“Yes?”

“Chloe and I are leaving. We found an apartment. We’re moving out next weekend.”

I stopped watering. I just looked at him.

“Okay,”

I said.

“Okay?”

he asked, surprised as if he expected me to beg him to stay, to cry, to plead.

“Yes, it’s your decision, your life. If you think it’s for the best, then it’s okay.”

Dan ran his hand through his hair, that gesture he made when he was nervous.

“Mom, I… I don’t want things to end like this between us. You’re my mother, I love you, but Chloe is my wife and I have to think about my marriage, about my future.”

“I can’t keep living here. Not like this. I need to build my own life. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“I’ll keep visiting you. I’ll call you. It’s not like I’m abandoning you. I just need my own space. That’s all.”

I nodded. I knew it was a lie.

I knew that once they left, the visits would become less and less frequent, the calls shorter, until one day they would stop coming altogether. I knew it, but I said nothing.

“It’s okay, son,”

I said.

“I wish you the best.”

He came closer and hugged me. It was an awkward hug, quick, as if he wanted to get it over with.

“I love you, Mom,”

he said.

“I love you too.”

He left. I went back to watering my plants.

The tears were falling, but I didn’t stop them. I let them fall onto the soil, onto the roots of the flowers I had cared for so much.

The next week was chaos. Dan and Chloe packed all their things, boxes and more boxes.

They moved furniture out. The house looked empty, bare.