Dad cowered to the side but wouldn’t stop running his mouth, pressing me to hand over the money.
I was stunned and angry. Since childhood, Mom had always been this way—willing to risk her life for her son, threatening suicide to force me into buying him a house. Back then, the whole neighborhood called me unfilial.
And now, nothing had changed.
A wave of exhaustion washed over me. I had thought maybe, as they grew older, they might finally appreciate me. But I had been wrong.
In the end, I had to call security to get them out of my apartment.
Even when I got to work, my irritation lingered.
Years ago, I had worked myself to the bone to buy them that house, thinking I could cut ties with the family. Yet here they were, clinging to me again—for such a ridiculous reason.
That evening, when I returned home, the hallway was finally quiet. I let out a breath of relief, hoping they wouldn’t come back.
But the moment I opened my door, something felt wrong.
The lights were on.
I rushed inside to find Megan, Daniel, and my parents sitting comfortably on my couch, watching TV. The cushions I had just cleaned were now covered in muddy footprints.