By the time my fever finally broke, the sheriff had completed the eviction. The house felt strangely peaceful without constant criticism echoing through the rooms. For the first time in years, I could breathe without walking on eggshells.
I opened every window, letting fresh air replace the heaviness that had settled there for so long. I repainted the kitchen, repaired the cabinet Ethan had damaged, and replaced every broken dish with something I actually liked.
Anything they left behind was packed into labeled boxes and collected according to the court order. I kept nothing that reminded me of the years I had spent trying to earn respect from people who had never intended to give it.
Standing alone in my living room, I finally understood that the house had never truly felt like mine until I stopped sharing it with people who treated me like a servant-
