I stood frozen in the doorway, my breath caught in my throat. The house was eerily silent, except for the faint creak of a floorboard inside. My heart pounded as I stepped forward, gripping the doorframe for support.
The living room was in disarray—cushions thrown aside, drawers yanked open, papers scattered everywhere. My hands trembled as I took another hesitant step, my eyes darting to the cabinet where I had locked away my retirement savings. The lock was broken. The drawer was empty.
A cold chill ran down my spine. Someone had taken everything.
I staggered back, my mind racing. Who could have done this?
I barely had time to process when a voice broke the silence.
“Mom…”
I turned to see my daughter, standing near the hallway. Her face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed. Behind her, my son-in-law lingered, his expression unreadable.
“You took it,” I whispered, my voice barely above a breath.
She swallowed hard, her fingers twitching at her sides. “Mom, please… we had no choice. It’s for my son. For your grandson.”
Rage bubbled inside me, but it was swallowed by something heavier—betrayal. “So you just stole from me? After I said no?”
Tears welled up in her eyes. “I begged you! He’s dying! What was I supposed to do? Watch him slip away while you hold onto money for some vacation?”
My fists clenched, my whole body shaking. “It wasn’t just a vacation, it was my last chance to see the world before I die!” My voice cracked. “Do you know what it feels like to live your whole life for others and then have your only dream ripped away?”
She stepped closer, reaching for me, but I recoiled.
“Mom, you don’t understand—”
“I understand perfectly,” I snapped. “You think I’m selfish. But do you think I don’t love him? Do you think this was easy for me?”
Her sobs deepened, her hands covering her face. “I just— I just wanted to save him. I didn’t know what else to do.”
My legs wobbled beneath me, and I sank onto the couch. The weight of everything pressed against my chest.
I could call the police. Report them for stealing. But could I really send my own daughter to jail?
I looked at her, broken and desperate. At the son-in-law who had stood there, complicit.
And then I thought of my grandson. Sick. Dying.
The silence stretched between us until I finally spoke, my voice hollow. “Is it enough?”
She sniffled. “What?”
“The money,” I said through gritted teeth. “Did you take enough to save him?”
She hesitated. “We don’t know yet. We’re still talking to the doctors.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “So you ruined me and it might not even be enough?”
She flinched, fresh guilt flashing in her eyes.
I leaned back, staring at the ceiling. My dream was gone. I had nothing left now. No vacation, no security. I had spent my life sacrificing for others. This was supposed to be the one thing I did for myself. And yet, even now, I knew the answer to the question clawing at my heart.
“Take whatever else you need,” I muttered.
She gasped. “Mom, I—”
“Just go.” I turned my head away. “Before I change my mind.”
She hesitated, then ran toward me, hugging me tightly. I didn’t hug her back.
As she left, my son-in-law murmured, “Thank you.”
I didn’t respond.
When the door closed, the house was silent again. Empty.
I stared at the broken cabinet. At the dreams that had just slipped through my fingers.
And I realized something terrifying.
I had spent my whole life giving. And now, when I needed someone to hold me up, I had no one left.