When my father’s new wife evicted me from my room and relegated me to the shed, I felt like I had hit rock bottom. But everything turned upside down when Mom unexpectedly showed up at the house with shocking news, leaving me questioning if I could ever find a sense of home with Dad again.
Arriving at Dad’s place, a knot tightened in my stomach. Something didn’t feel right. Kim, my stepmom, greeted me at the door with a forced smile.
“Michelle, honey, come in,” she said, her voice unnaturally sweet.
I entered, dragging my suitcase behind me. Sam and Leo, my college-aged stepbrothers, lounged on the couch, absorbed in their new laptops – the same ones Dad had claimed were too expensive for me.
“Where’s Dad?” I asked, trying to keep bitterness out of my voice.
“Working late,” Kim replied, fiddling with her necklace. “Listen, Michelle, we need to discuss sleeping arrangements.”
My heart sank. “What about them?”
Kim glanced at her sons. “Well, with Sam and Leo home for the holidays, space is a bit tight.”
“Tight on space?” I echoed. “But I have my own room.”
“Had,” Sam muttered under his breath, eyes glued to his laptop screen.
I spun to face him. “What do you mean by that?”
Kim cleared her throat. “Michelle, dear, we had to give your room to the boys. They need a proper place to sleep and study.”
“And where am I supposed to sleep?” I demanded, my voice rising.
Kim avoided my gaze. “We’ve set up a nice space for you in the shed.”
“The shed?” Disbelief surged through me. “Are you kidding?”
“It’s just temporary,” Kim hurriedly added. “Just until the boys go back to university.”
I scanned the room, hoping for any sign that this was a cruel joke. Sam and Leo smirked, and Kim stood there, lips pressed tight.
“Where’s Dad?” I asked again, voice cracking. “I need to talk to him.”
“He’ll be home late,” Kim repeated. “Why don’t you get settled? I’m sure you’re tired from the trip.”
Defeated, I dragged my suitcase to the shed. Inside was musty and cramped, a rickety cot squeezed between boxes of junk. A single bare bulb hung from the ceiling, casting harsh shadows.
Sitting on the cot, I fought back tears. How had it come to this? Dad used to shower me with attention, but since marrying Kim, everything had changed.
He’d promised to buy me a laptop for school, then claimed he couldn’t afford it. Yet he bought new ones for Sam and Leo without hesitation. I remembered his excitement when he told them about the “surprise.”
“You boys need good computers for your studies,” he’d said proudly.
When I reminded him of his promise, he shrugged it off. “Times are tough, Michelle. Maybe next year.”
Then there was the lake trip. Dad had planned a special weekend just for us, but work suddenly got in the way.
“Sorry, kiddo,” he’d said without meeting my eyes. “We’ll do it another time.”
A week later, I saw photos online of him, Sam, and Leo at the lake, fishing and laughing. When I confronted him, he brushed it off.
“The boys were only here briefly,” he’d said. “I wanted to do something special with them.”
And now this. Thrown out of my own room, banished to the shed like some unwanted pet.
I tossed and turned all night, the cot creaking with every movement. In the morning, my phone buzzed with a video call. It was Mom.
“Hey, sweetie,” she greeted. “How’s everything at your dad’s?”
I tried to sound upbeat. “Oh, you know, same old.”
Mom frowned. “Michelle, where are you? Is that… is that the shed?”
I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
Mom’s expression darkened. “Why on earth are you in the shed?”
“Kim says there’s no room in the house,” I mumbled. “Sam and Leo took my room.”
“They did WHAT?” Mom exploded. “Oh, no. I’m coming over right now.”
“Mom, no, it’s okay,” I weakly protested. But she had already hung up.
An hour later, tires screeched in the driveway. Mom stormed into the shed, her face thunderous.
“Pack your things,” she ordered. “We’re going to have a chat with your father and his wife.”
I trailed behind Mom as she barged into the house. “John!” she called out. “Get out here!”
Dad emerged from the kitchen, looking bewildered. “Helen? What are you doing here?”
“Why is our daughter sleeping in a shed?” Mom demanded.
Kim rushed in. “Helen, you can’t just barge in here making demands. This isn’t your house.”
Mom turned on her, eyes blazing. “I have every right. Didn’t John tell you? This house belongs to Michelle.”
The room fell silent. I stared at Mom, then at Dad, who had gone pale.
“What are you talking about?” Kim spluttered.
Mom smiled coldly. “When we divorced, we put the house in Michelle’s name. In a year, she’ll own it outright.”
Kim whirled on Dad. “Is this true? You knew about this?”
Dad nodded miserably. “I… I didn’t think it was relevant.”
“Not relevant?” Mom scoffed. “You let your daughter sleep in a shed in her own house!”
Sam and Leo appeared in the doorway, looking confused.
“What’s going on?” Leo asked, clutching his laptop.
Mom addressed everyone. “Listen up. From now on, Michelle sleeps in her room. In her house. No more discussion.”
“But…” Kim began to protest.
“No buts,” Mom cut her off. “Unless you want Michelle to kick you all out when she turns eighteen, show her some respect.”
She turned to me, voice softening. “Come on, honey. Let’s get your things. You’re coming home with me.”
As we packed, I heard Dad and Kim arguing in the other room.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the house?” Kim demanded.
“I didn’t want to complicate things,” Dad replied weakly.
Mom and I walked out to her car. As we drove away, I felt a mix of relief, vindication, and sadness.
“You okay, sweetie?” Mom asked, glancing over.
I nodded. “Yeah. Thanks for coming to get me.”
“Always,” she said firmly. “I’ll always have your back.”
We drove in silence for a while. Then I asked, “What happens now?”
Mom sighed. “That’s up to you, honey. If you want to keep visiting your dad, we’ll make sure things change. If you don’t, that’s okay too.”
I thought about it. “I think… I think I want to try. But only if things are different.”
“They will be,” Mom assured me. “Your father may be dense sometimes, but he loves you. He just needed a wake-up call.”
Over the next week, I stayed with Mom. Dad called every day, apologizing profusely. He promised things would change, that he’d make it up to me.
Finally, I agreed to visit. As we pulled up, Dad waited on the porch.
“Ready?” Mom asked, squeezing my hand.
I took a deep breath. “Ready.”
Dad met us, looking remorseful. “Michelle, I’m so sorry,” he started.
I cut him off. “Actions speak louder than words, Dad.”
He nodded, eyes glistening. “I know. Come inside, please?”
We entered. The house was quiet – no sign of Kim or the boys.
“Where is everyone?” I asked.
“Dad,” the teenager asked, ? they head source
