For a moment, I thought I\u2019d misheard. Maybe my old ears, dulled by time, were playing tricks on me. But no. His wife sat silently on the couch, eyes glued to her phone, offering no objection. My grandson, no older than ten, looked up briefly\u2014then turned back to his video game.<\/p>\n
I looked at my son. I gave a small laugh, nervous. \u201cWhat do you mean, Minh? Where would I even go?\u201d<\/p>\n
His tone didn\u2019t change. \u201cWe\u2019ve decided. Your room\u2019s becoming our office. You\u2019ve lived here rent-free long enough. It\u2019s time to move on. There\u2019s a retirement place nearby.\u201d<\/p>\n
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It felt like I\u2019d been shoved off a cliff. His words echoed, sharp and final. A retirement home? I knew no one there. I had been the one cooking their meals, looking after their child, while they worked, traveled, and lived their lives. And now, like something old and used up, I was being discarded.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t argue. That night, I packed. Pride is a strange friend in old age. My hands trembled as I folded my clothes into the last suitcase I owned. I wouldn\u2019t let them see me cry. I wouldn\u2019t give them the satisfaction.<\/p>\n
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