since the wedding, they had moved in and taken over. Ava, kind to a fault, had let it happen. She was overwhelmed, too polite to stand up for herself, and clearly running on empty. That night, I called a house meeting. With calm but firm words, I told them the truth — the house and car were mine. They had two choices: contribute and respect boundaries,
or pack up and leave. Within a week, they were gone. Ava crumbled into my arms, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I didn’t know how to say no,” she whispered. “You never had to do it alone,” I told her. Together, we reclaimed not just her space — but her sense of self. Slowly, Ava began to smile again. She stood taller, laughed louder. She remembered who she was. And I made sure no one ever forgot — she is my daughter, not anyone’s servant.