After several toasts, Max stands up from the table. He speaks louder than usual, confidently, as if he already knows everyone will listen. He announces that it’s time for gifts and comes up to me holding a long package. The wrapping paper rustles as he unwraps it, and a mop appears in his hands.

He hands it to me and says:

 

— “So you don’t forget your place,” he said loudly, so everyone could hear.

The room exploded with laughter. Someone snorted, someone clapped, the daughter-in-law turned away, pretending to adjust her napkin. I stood there holding the mop and looked at them with the same calm with which I had been looking at the snow outside the window.

Exactly at midnight, shouts of “Happy New Year!” filled the house, champagne spilled over, someone hugged Max, someone leaned toward the daughter-in-law.

But I placed the mop against the wall, slowly wiped my hands with a towel, and waited until the last chime dissolved into the noise. And it was precisely then that I made the announcement they would deeply regret 😨😨 Continuation in the first comment 👇👇

— “And now,” I said evenly, without raising my voice, “I also have an announcement.”

The laughter stopped. Someone awkwardly lowered their glass. I swept my gaze across the table, across these people sitting in a house that did not belong to them.

— “I sold this house today,” I continued calmly. “The documents were signed this morning. The money is already in the account. Starting January first, you have exactly one week to pack your things and find yourselves a new place for the holidays.”

The room grew so quiet that you could hear wax dripping from a candle.

Max went pale.

 

— “Are you joking?” he forced out.

I smiled, truly, for the first time that evening.

— “No, my son. I simply remembered where my place is. And I decided that it is no longer here.”

And for the first time in many years, my New Year did not begin with exhaustion, but with relief.