I gave her my information and hung up. I felt a strange tightness in my chest. It wasn’t fear. It was determination. For the first time in weeks, I felt like I was taking control of my own life.
The weekend was quiet but tense. Chloe and Linda spent it measuring the walls of the spare room next to mine—the room where I kept my things, my books, my winter clothes, some boxes with photos and memories.
“This will be the baby’s room,” I heard Chloe say. “We’ll paint it a light yellow and put a crib here by the window.”
A baby. She wasn’t even pregnant yet. And they were already planning to take over every corner of my house. They were already erasing me room by room, space by space.
Adrien was acting strange—quiet, distant. Sometimes I’d see him looking at me as if he wanted to say something, but then Chloe would arrive and he’d go back to his silence. It made me sad to see him like that. My son—the boy I raised alone, the boy I taught to tie his shoes, to ride a bike, to be respectful and honest. That boy was now a man who didn’t know how to defend his own mother, or worse, a man who had chosen not to defend her.
On Sunday night, Linda made dinner. Without asking my permission, she used my kitchen as if it were hers. She made chicken and green salsa with rice. She set the table in the dining room, and when we sat down to eat, she spoke as if she were the host of the party.
“Well, family,” she said, raising her water glass as if for a toast, “I want to propose something. Chloe and I have been thinking it would be a good idea to do a complete remodel of the house. Change the floors, paint all the walls, update the bathrooms. What do you all think?”
Adrien looked at her, surprised.
“A remodel? That costs a lot of money.”
“Yes, but it’s worth it,” Chloe insisted. “This house has so much potential. It just needs an update. And we can get a loan. With your salary and mine, we can pay it off in 2 years.”
A loan to remodel my house. The house that was still mine.
“And what do you think, Mom?” Adrien asked, turning to look at me for the first time all dinner.
They all looked at me. Chloe with that smile that no longer fooled me. Linda with a challenging look, waiting for me to say something so she could attack. And Adrien—my son—looking at me with exhaustion, as if my opinion were just a formality he had to get through.
