I came home early to find my parents packing up my things—saying they were “helping”

The room was thick with tension, each word thrown like a dagger. The shock of realizing their audacity left me momentarily speechless, heat rising to my cheeks. My own family, the people who were supposed to love and support me, were conspiring against me. The house I’d toiled to own, a symbol of my independence and hard work, was being snatched away, wrapped up in a nice bow of “family duty.”

I looked around the table, scanning for any sign of support or reason, but all I found were expectant faces. Faces that had, moments earlier, been joyous with the announcement of new life. Now, they seemed almost predatory, each person aligned in their shared goal.“Camila,” Sarah started again, her voice annoyingly sweet, “think of it as giving your niece or nephew a good start in life. Isn’t that worth more than some empty rooms?”