I spotted movement at my vacation home—my parents and Lily were unloading boxes as if they owned the place.
I drove up, furious. My mom was in the garden, my dad and Lily inside. “What are you doing here?” I demanded.
“We thought we’d help tidy up,” my dad mumbled.
“Tidy up? You’re moving in without my permission!” I shot back.
Lily shrugged. “It’s just a vacation home.”
“This is about respect,” I said. “Be gone by the end of the day. I’m changing the locks.”
After tense moments, they packed up and left. Relief and sadness washed over me. Family mattered—but not at the cost of my peace.
