The warm September wind rustled the curtain in the living room, filling the room with the scent of fading leaves. Alex, sitting in his rented office, tapped his fingers on the desk while the computer processed another client request. The 35-year-old programmer with a stocky build and a red beard that he had been growing for the last five years looked atypical for his profession, more like a lumberjack or a biker.

But behind the unconventional appearance hid one of the best cybersecurity specialists in the city. The phone vibrated. Mom appeared on the screen.

Alex, do you remember that Mary’s engagement is this Saturday? His mother’s voice sounded casual, as if talking about a trip to the store. Of course, I remember, Alex leaned back in his chair, looking at the framed photo on the desk, a picture of the three-bedroom apartment in downtown Chicago, where his childhood had passed. The apartment that formally belonged to him.

Victor thinks we should book the restaurant «River North Grill,» his mother continued. But you understand. Alex smirked.

Victor thinks—this phrase had haunted him for the last 15 years, ever since his stepfather appeared in their home. Victor Peterson, a minor clerk in the city administration, with his eternally perfectly ironed shirts and a folder he carried under his arm like some symbol of power, entered their life when Alex was 20. «I’ll take care of the restaurant,» Alex replied.

— And everything else too. This is my sister, after all. Hanging up, he sighed and looked at the clock.

In half an hour, he had to be at a meeting with a client, but his thoughts kept returning to the apartment story. The inheritance story began almost 10 years ago. After his parents’ divorce, his father, a senior engineer in a construction company, decided to transfer the three-bedroom apartment to his son.

«This is your insurance, buddy,» his father said then, patting him on the shoulder. «Your mother might marry anyone, but no one will kick you out of the house.» Two years later, his father died of a heart attack.

Alex was 23, he had just graduated from college and started working as a programmer. That’s when Victor appeared. Short, fit, with a neat haircut and manners designed to emphasize his intellect.

From the beginning, the stepfather tried to emphasize how much Alex didn’t fit his idea of a decent family. «You should lose some weight, Alex,» he would say, giving his stepson an appraising look. «And those jeans of yours.

Is that how a person with a higher education should look?» At the time, Alex just shrugged. He quickly got promoted, started earning enough to rent his own apartment. Moving out seemed like the best solution, especially since his mother tearfully asked to leave the apartment to them.

«Alex, where will Victor and I go? He only has his salary, and I’m retired. Mary is still in school.» His mother didn’t skimp on emotions when it came to money and real estate.

Alex agreed. Let them live, after all, it’s family. He moved out, leaving his relatives to live in his own apartment for free.

No contracts, just a verbal agreement. Five years flew by unnoticed. Alex built a career, earned a reputation, made good connections in the tech sphere.

In his wallet, there was always a card from which his mother could withdraw money for unforeseen expenses. Major repairs, new furniture, education for his sister—all of it fell on Alex’s shoulders. «You can’t imagine how proud Victor is of the new furnishings,» his mother reported over the phone…

Now it’s not embarrassing to invite his colleagues over. At family dinners, which happened about once a month, Alex mostly stayed silent, watching as Victor expounded on his successes at work and how hard it is to deal with ordinary people when you’re an educated person with a special mindset. «Take our Alex,» Victor liked to say, pointing his fork at his stepson.

A programmer, not a janitor, but looks like. He paused, searching for a suitable comparison, like a lumberjack on a stroll. His mother nervously giggled, his sister looked at her plate, and Alex silently chewed, understanding that arguing was pointless.

Over the years, relations with his stepfather didn’t improve. Victor, lacking real achievements, compensated by constantly criticizing those around him, especially Alex. Everything irritated him, from his stepson’s manner of speaking to his growing red beard, which he grew after thirty.

It’s just indecent. Victor fumed at dinner. «You look like a bum from the train station.

At least trim that mop.» Alex stayed silent, smiling at the corner of his mouth. His appearance, far from glossy standards, became a kind of shield, a natural filter screening out superficial people.

That day, when Mary, his younger sister, announced her upcoming wedding, Alex didn’t even hesitate. «I’ll pay for everything,» he said, watching his sister bloom with relief. «Choose any restaurant, dress, photographer, whatever you want.

Alex, you’re our savior.» His mother burst into tears right at the table, touched by her son’s generous gesture. Victor smiled tensely but didn’t comment.

Only later, when Alex was about to leave, his stepfather caught him in the hallway. «Don’t think that just because you’re paying, you can boss everyone around,» he said quietly, adjusting his tie knot. «The wedding is a family event.

Everything should look respectable.» Alex just snorted, letting the remarks pass by. He was used to such jabs.

The approaching Saturday and engagement Alex met with unexpected joy. For the first time in a long time, he felt useful to his sister, the only person in the family who never criticized him for his appearance or lifestyle. Maybe after the wedding, relations will improve, he thought, closing his laptop and heading to the meeting.

The universe, however, was already preparing a completely different scenario. A week before the wedding, Alex’s life was a chaos of organized busyness. Daily meetings with the wedding planner, endless money transfers to vendors, and coordinating the smallest details took up most of his free time.

Despite his own busyness with cybersecurity projects, he willingly dove into the pre-wedding hustle. Alex was sitting in a cafe across from the office when the wedding planner Irene, an elegant woman with a laptop and an eternal tablet in her hands, sat down with a businesslike air. The flowers are all set, she reported, scrolling through the list on her tablet.

The arrangements will be delivered to the restaurant by ten in the morning. The banquet hall is booked, the menu is approved. We just need to confirm the exact number of guests.

How many do we have on the preliminary list? – asked Alex, sipping his Americano. 93 people, including the newlyweds, replied Irene. But Mary said there might be changes.

I need to know the exact number by the end of the week. – Okay, I’ll check, – nodded Alex, pulling out his phone. For the second day, he had been trying to reach his sister, but Mary wasn’t picking up.

Her uncharacteristic elusiveness was starting to worry him. Usually, his sister answered almost instantly, but in recent days, conversations had become short and formal. Did you pick up the wedding dress? – inquired Alex, sending a message to Mary.

– Yes, yesterday. – Your sister? She looks stunning in it, – smiled Irene. – And have you decided what you’ll wear? Alex twirled his coffee mug.

I was thinking about a dark blue suit. Strict but not too formal. Tie or bow tie, haven’t decided yet.

Bow tie definitely. Irene said enthusiastically. – With your beard, it’ll be stylish and a bit bohemian.

Alex smiled. Hearing positive comments about his appearance was unusual. In his family, the beard remained a constant source of mockery, especially from Victor.

– I have a stylist friend, – continued Irene. He could put together a look that. Alex’s phone vibrated.

– Message from Mary, I’ll pass the list to mom, she’ll send it. The phrase seemed strange. Why did his sister suddenly decide to act through intermediaries? He dialed her number, but the call went unanswered again.

– Something wrong? – asked Irene, noticing Alex’s frown. – I don’t know, – he replied, setting the phone aside. – I hope not…

Let’s finish with the organizational questions, and I’ll get the list, I promise. The rest of the day passed in work routine. Alex tried to focus on the project to protect the banking system, but his thoughts kept returning to his sister’s strange behavior.

At six in the evening, when the office started emptying, he decided to call his mother. – Hi, Mom, – he said when she finally answered after the fifth ring. – Alex.

His mother’s voice sounded unusually tense. – How’s work? – Fine. – Do you know what’s up with Mary? – She’s not answering calls.

A short pause on the other end of the line. – She’s very busy, dear. – Fittings, meetings with the groom.

– You understand, pre-wedding fuss. – Yeah, but she needs to confirm the guest list. – Can you tell her that? Alex, his mother interrupted him, and something in her voice made Alex tense.

– We need to talk. – Could you come over today? – Did something happen? – We’ll talk at home. – Can you be here by eight? Anxiety, coiled somewhere in his chest, began to grow.

– Okay, I’ll be there. At eight in the evening, Alex stood at the door of his former apartment, holding a set of keys. Technically, he could enter himself; the apartment belonged to him, but over the years, he had gotten used to ringing, respecting the privacy of the people living there.

Even if formally, these people were living on his territory. His mother opened the door. Her hair, usually perfectly styled, looked disheveled, and her eyes were red, as if from tears.

«Come in,» she said, letting her son inside. In the living room, Alex encountered an unusual scene. Victor sat in an armchair with an uncharacteristically serious expression, and Mary was settled on the couch, fiddling with the edge of her blouse.

The atmosphere resembled a family council gathered before announcing sad news. «What’s going on?» asked Alex, stopping in the middle of the room. Victor cleared his throat and straightened up, assuming his favorite pose as the head of the family.

«Alex, we need to discuss some. Organizational moments of the wedding. I’m all ears.»

His mother cast a quick glance at Victor, then at Mary, and finally resolved, «Alex, dear, we think that … perhaps … it would be better if you … don’t come to the ceremony,» Victor finished for her, looking Alex straight in the eyes. A heavy silence hung. Alex felt everything inside turning to ice.

«What?» «Understand correctly,» continued Victor, rubbing his hands, «we’ll have important guests. Colleagues from the administration, city officials, business partners. Everything should look … solid.»

«And I, apparently, am not solid enough,» Alex said slowly, beginning to understand where the conversation was heading. «It’s not about that.» His mother intervened.

«It’s just that you know, you have this … image. The beard—your build. In the photos, it will look.»

«Like what?» Alex’s voice remained calm, though tension was building inside. «Like a living person, not a magazine picture.» «Like out of place,» Victor cut off.

«Let’s speak plainly. Your appearance doesn’t match the event’s format. This is an elite occasion where everything should be.»

Beautiful and glamorous, Alex finished through gritted teeth. «Got it.» He shifted his gaze to Mary.

«And you agree with this?» His sister flinched, not lifting her eyes. «I … I just want everything to go perfectly, Alex.» Flawless photos, beautiful memories.

«Without me,» clarified Alex. «Don’t dramatize,» Victor interjected. «No one is saying you can’t participate at all.

You’ve already made an invaluable contribution by paying for the celebration. That means a lot to us.» Alex smirked.

«So my money is enough, but my presence isn’t?» «Alex, don’t start,» his mother sighed. We just want everything to be perfect. You could at least trim your beard.»

«It’s not just the beard,» interrupted Victor. «The whole image … outdated. Guests will notice, ask questions.

We don’t need that.» Something finally broke in Alex. For 15 years, he had endured comments and jabs, tolerated mockery and criticism…

15 years helping a family that saw him only as a wallet and an awkward misunderstanding. And now they were asking him not to come to his own sister’s wedding, a wedding he had paid for out of his own pocket. «I understand,» he said quietly, standing up.

«Send me the final guest list; the planner needs to know the exact numbers. So you’re not offended?» His mother asked hopefully. Alex looked at her with a long gaze.

«Don’t worry about my feelings. They never particularly interested you.» He headed for the exit.

Mary finally rose from the couch. «Alex, wait.» «What?» He stopped without turning.

«You understand we don’t want to offend you?» «It’s just. Formality. For perfect photos.»

Alex turned, looking his sister in the eyes. «I understand, Mary. I understand everything perfectly.»

Asterisk-asterisk-asterisk, the next morning, Alex met with the cold clarity of a man who had made an important decision. No trace of yesterday’s offense remained in his movements as he dialed the number of a lawyer, a college friend specializing in housing issues. «Andrew, I need a consultation,» said Alex, hearing the familiar voice.

«How quickly can I evict people living in my own apartment for free?» «Evicting relatives?» There was no judgment in the lawyer’s voice, only professional interest. «Yes. There’s a free use agreement.

Verbal agreement. Then it’s simple. You send an official notice terminating the agreement, give a reasonable time to vacate the premises, usually a month, and that’s it.

And if they refuse? Then through court. But with clean ownership documents, the case will be a win.» Alex nodded, though the interlocutor couldn’t see it.

«Prepare the documents. I want to send the notice the day after tomorrow.» «Okay.

And, Alex. Something serious happened?» Alex looked at his reflection in the window glass, a big man with a red beard that had become a symbol of his independence from others’ opinions. «It’s just time to set the record straight.»

After talking with the lawyer, Alex contacted the wedding planner and confirmed he would pay all remaining bills within the day. Then he called the restaurant and checked if all details were discussed. «And will you be attending the event yourself?» The administrator asked him.

«We need to know who the contact person will be.» «No, I won’t be there,» replied Alex. «Contact the bride or her mother.»

Throughout the day, the phone was ringing off the hook from Mary’s calls. Alex ignored them, immersing himself in work. Only in the evening did he read her message.

«Alex, I didn’t mean to offend you, please,» — replied Victor, «just worried about the impression, you know, his career depends on these people, Alex. We can discuss everything in the last message,» — Alex replied briefly. «Everything has already been discussed.

Don’t worry, the wedding will go as planned.» In the evening, sitting in his rented apartment with a glass of whiskey, Alex scrolled through old family photos, those times when they were still a real family. Father, mother, little Mary, and himself, a teenager, still without a beard, but already tall and large.

In all the shots, his father hugged him by the shoulders with pride. «What would you say now, Dad?» — thought Alex, peering into his father’s smiling face. The next day, he went to Andrew’s office to sign the documents.

The official eviction notice was drafted in dry legal language, without emotions, just facts and deadlines. «I recommend sending it by certified mail with return receipt,» said Andrew, handing over the folder with documents. «And duplicate it electronically to avoid arguments about non-receipt.»

«Thanks,» nodded Alex. — Are you sure you want to do this? Alex pondered for a moment. «You know, all my life I’ve tried to be a good son…

Supported Mom after the divorce, provided for the family, tolerated the stepfather’s mockery. I gave them the apartment, paid for repairs, for my sister’s education. And you know what? Their gratitude boils down to telling me you’re not presentable enough for our celebration.

Please give money and disappear.» «I understand,» nodded Andrew. — That’s really.

Crappy. Exactly. So yes, I’m sure I want to do this.

Moreover, I plan to sell the apartment.» Andrew’s eyes widened. «Seriously? Do they know about this?» «They’ll find out,» Alex shrugged.

When they have to look for new housing. On the wedding day, which was supposed to take place in five days. Alex sent the certified letter with the eviction notice to his apartment’s address.

He sent a duplicate notice to his mother’s messenger with a short text. «You have exactly one month to vacate the apartment.» An hour later, the calls started.

First his mother, her voice breaking into a scream after Alex’s first words confirming the seriousness of his intentions. Then Victor, threatening, promising to use his connections in the administration. Finally, Mary, confused, not understanding how the situation could spiral out of control.

«Alex, you can’t do this to us,» she sobbed. «Where will we go?» «Where all people go when they need housing,» Alex replied calmly. «Rent an apartment.

Victor has a stable job, right? But his salary won’t cover rent downtown. Then not downtown. Alex, this is cruel.»

«Cruel, Mary,» said Alex, feeling the tension of recent days turn into fatigue. Saying to a person that he’s not beautiful enough to attend a celebration he himself paid for. «And my decision is just business.

Nothing personal.» The last phrase sounded with bitter irony because everything happening was too personal. That was the problem.

On the wedding day, Alex didn’t go to work. He stayed home, turned off his phone, and spent the day reading a book he had put off for several months. In the evening, he turned on the phone and saw dozens of messages and missed calls.

Among the photos on social media, wedding shots flashed: happy Mary in a white dress, proud Victor next to her, touched mother. A perfect picture paid for by the person who had no place in it. Alex turned off the phone and poured himself more whiskey.

A strange feeling, a mix of liberation and sadness, filled him. He understood that he had turned the page of his life. And the next chapter would be written only on his terms.

Alex, for the first time in a long time, woke up with a sense of lightness. The morning sun filtering through the blinds seemed brighter than usual. He stretched, went to the window, and flung it wide open, letting the cool autumn air fill the apartment.

Strange, he thought, looking at the awakening city, but I feel free. The phone, which he had turned back on yesterday, persistently vibrated on the nightstand. Alex glanced at the screen; it was his mother calling.

Already the twelfth time in the last day. He dismissed the call and went to the kitchen to make coffee. The morning ritual—grinding beans, brewing in a French press, leisurely enjoying the aroma—always calmed him.

Today, he allowed himself to add an omelet with cheese and greens to breakfast. Usually, there wasn’t time for such indulgences, but today was a special day. The day he decided to finally part with the past.

The phone rang again and again. When his patience ran out, Alex finally answered, yes, Mom. Finally.

Her voice sounded both accusatory and pleading. Do you even understand what you’re doing? We received your letter. This is some horrible joke.

It’s not a joke, Alex replied calmly, stirring his coffee. I really plan to sell the apartment. You have a month to find new housing.

But where will we live? His mother’s voice rose to a scream. You’re throwing us out on the street. Your own mother…

Victor has a job in the administration, reminded Alex. Rent an apartment. On his salary? You’re joking.

We won’t be able to rent anything decent. Then you’ll have to rent something less decent, Alex took a sip of coffee. Or move further from downtown.

Alex, tears appeared in his mother’s voice, you can’t do this to us. We’re your family. You were always such a caring boy.

Apparently, something changed, Alex cut off. Maybe at the moment when you decided I wasn’t good enough to attend my own sister’s wedding. That was just stupidity.

We got carried away. Victor will apologize, I promise. It’s too late, Mom.

The decision is made. You have exactly 30 days from the notice. He hung up, ignoring the stream of calls that followed.

Half an hour later, the phone rang from an unknown number. Alex, sensing a trick, still answered. Hello, Alexander? The official male voice sounded emphatically polite.

My name is George Stevens, I’m a lawyer representing the interests of Victor Peterson and your mother, Helen. Alex smirked. Victor didn’t waste time.

I’m listening. My clients received your eviction notice, which they consider legally unfounded, the lawyer continued. According to housing legislation, family members of the owner permanently residing with him have certain rights.

In this case. But I don’t live with them permanently, interrupted Alex. I moved out five years ago.

They live in my apartment based on a verbal free use agreement. Such an agreement can be terminated by the owner unilaterally at any time. A short pause on the other end.

Nevertheless, considering the duration of residence and degree of kinship. Contact my lawyer, Alex gave Andrew’s name and phone. He’ll explain the legal position in more detail.

Have a good day. Ending the call, Alex immediately dialed Andrew. They’ve already hired a lawyer, he reported when his friend answered.

Some Stevens. I know him, Andrew chuckled. Third-rate specialist.

Takes on any cases to make money. Don’t worry, I’ll handle it. Throughout the day, Alex fully immersed himself in work.

The code required concentration, leaving no room for thoughts about the family drama. By evening, when he finished the project, a message came from Andrew, talked to their lawyer. He understood the futility of the case.

Most likely, they’ll try to resolve it personally. As Andrew predicted, the next morning, Victor appeared at the door of Alex’s apartment. He looked unusually disheveled, tie slightly askew, eyes red as if from insomnia.

We need to talk, he said instead of greeting. Alex silently stepped aside, letting his stepfather into the apartment. Victor looked around, assessing the setup: minimalist design, modern tech, spacious rooms.

Not bad for yourself, he noted, walking into the living room. What do I owe the visit? Coldly, asked Alex, not offering his stepfather a seat. Victor, however, sat on the edge of the couch himself, nervously tapping his fingers on his knee.

Listen, Alex, he began, trying to speak calmly. I understand that we might have been not too tactful. This situation with the wedding, a misunderstanding.

We were all nervous, said things we didn’t mean. And what did you really mean? Alex stood with arms crossed on his chest, towering over the sitting stepfather. That you, of course, should have been there, Victor replied hastily.

Just. You understand, appearance. In our position…

In your position as what? Interrupted Alex. Penniless hangers-on whom I graciously allowed to live in my apartment. Victor’s face flushed with red spots.

No need for rudeness. I came to talk like adults. I suggest forgetting this unpleasant incident and returning to the previous state of affairs.

And I suggest you look for new housing, replied Alex. You have 27 days left. Victor took a deep breath, clearly struggling with anger.

Fine. If you insist on changing the terms, we can discuss rent. Something symbolic, considering our relation.

I’m not renting the apartment, Alex cut off. I’m selling it. Why? The price of independence, the week after sending the eviction notice turned into a real test of character for Alex.

The phone didn’t stop, messages, calls, voice notes with his mother’s sobs and sharp accusations from his stepfather became his constant companions. At some point, Alex decided to turn off the sound, move all notifications to a separate folder, and check them only at the end of the workday. Emotional pressure shouldn’t affect his work.

A major client was waiting for a security system update. On Monday morning, when Alex was sitting in a cafe across from his office reviewing code before sending, a woman in a strict suit with a folder of documents sat down next to him. Alexander? She asked with a professional smile.

Laura Sparrow, realtor. You left a request for apartment appraisal. Yes, that’s right, he set aside his laptop.

Have a seat. Laura pulled out documents and spread several sheets with calculations in front of him. I conducted a preliminary appraisal based on the photos and data you provided.

Three-bedroom in an old building, downtown, with good repairs, close to the subway. She ran her finger over the numbers. For a quick sale, we can expect $400,000-$450,000.

If not in a hurry and wait for the ideal buyer, up to $500,000. Alex nodded, examining the documents. A quick sale suits me.

When can we start showings? As soon as the apartment is vacated, replied Laura. You mentioned relatives are living there now. They have three more weeks, said Alex.

After that, we can proceed. Laura nodded understandingly, not asking extra questions. Realtors’ professional ethics didn’t involve digging into clients’ family stories.

Excellent. I already have several potential buyers interested in real estate in this area. As soon as viewing is possible, we’ll start.

After the meeting with the realtor, Alex felt confidence growing inside about the correctness of his decision. Selling the apartment wasn’t an impulsive act of resentment; it was a logical step. Why hold onto property tied to painful memories? It was more rational to invest the money in new housing that matched his current needs.

In the evening, checking the deferred notifications, Alex found a voice message from his mother, recorded an hour ago. Unlike the previous hysterical messages, this voice sounded calm, even businesslike. Alex, we need to talk seriously.

I understand you’re offended, and maybe you have reasons for it. But let’s discuss everything like adults. I’ll come to you tomorrow at seven in the evening.

Please be home. Alex sighed. Sooner or later, this conversation had to happen.

Better to end it now than delay the inevitable. «Okay,» he replied briefly. The next evening, at exactly seven, the doorbell rang.

His mother stood at the threshold alone, without Victor—that was already unusual. She looked aged by several years: sunken face, dull eyes, nervous movements. «Come in,» said Alex, letting her into the apartment.

His mother walked into the living room, looking around with interest. She had never been to his current apartment before; all meetings usually happened on her territory. «You have it very… modern,» she noted, sitting on the edge of the couch.

«And spacious.» «Thanks,» Alex remained standing, not wanting to create the illusion of a cozy family chat. «What did you want to talk about?» His mother sighed, gathering her thoughts.

«Alex, I understand you’re offended because of this wedding story. Yes, we acted badly, I won’t argue.» Victor went too far with his ideas of prestige.

«It’s not just the wedding, Mom,» interrupted Alex. «That was just the last straw.» «About what?» — About fifteen years of humiliation,» he replied calmly…

«Of how Victor emphasized my inferiority at every opportunity. Of how you laughed with him at my appearance, at my lifestyle. Of how you took my help for granted, continuing to treat me condescendingly.»

His mother nervously fiddled with her purse strap. «You’re exaggerating. Yes, Victor can be sharp sometimes, but he never meant to offend you.

Right?» Alex smirked. Lumberjack on a stroll, bum from the train station, family disgrace—that all sounded very friendly, of course. Those were just jokes.

His mother began to noticeably fidget. «You take everything too seriously.» «Maybe,» agreed Alex.

«But you know what I took even more seriously? That a person living in my apartment for free allows himself to forbid me from appearing at a family celebration that I paid for.» A heavy pause hung. His mother lowered her gaze.

«Fine, I understand your offense. We acted wrongly. But because of one mistake, are you ready to kick us out of the house? Where will we live, Alex?» «That’s no longer my problem,» Alex replied firmly.

«Victor has a job in the administration, which he loves to remind about. You both had years to save for your own housing or at least a down payment on a mortgage. Instead, you lived at my expense.»

«At your expense?» Indignation appeared in his mother’s voice. «I devoted my whole life to you. Who didn’t sleep nights when you were sick? Who denied herself everything so you could get an education?» «Thank you for that,» Alex replied calmly.

«But you know what normal parents do? They raise children not to demand lifelong compensation later. They do it out of love and care, expecting nothing in return. You’re accusing me of not loving you?» His mother’s eyes filled with tears.

«After everything I’ve done for you? No, Mom. I’m just saying that real love doesn’t set conditions. It doesn’t demand payment and doesn’t remind of sacrifices at every opportunity.»

His mother looked at him with incomprehension. She really couldn’t grasp his position. In her worldview, children owed parents just by the fact of their birth, and no payment could be sufficient.

And yet, she finally said, wiping her tears, «Where do we go? We don’t have that kind of money to rent a decent apartment. And Victor might not get promoted because of this scandal.» What scandal? Alex was surprised.

Our move. People will ask why we suddenly moved out of a good downtown apartment. There will be talk.

Alex shook his head. Even now, his mother was more worried about her husband’s reputation than the break in relations with her son. «That’s not my problem,» he repeated.

«You have three more weeks to find housing. And if we don’t find anything suitable in that time?» Tears appeared in his mother’s voice again. «Then you’ll have to find something unsuitable,» Alex cut off.

«Or turn to Victor’s relatives for help. He has a mother, if I’m not mistaken. The old lady lives in a two-bedroom in the suburbs.»

His mother threw up her hands. «It takes Victor two hours to get to work from there. Then he’ll have to get up earlier,» Alex shrugged.

His mother stood up, clutching her purse with whitened fingers. «I don’t recognize you, Alex. You’ve become so… cruel.

It’s all your computers; they’ve turned you into an emotionless machine.» Alex just smirked. A typical psychological tactic: when there’s nothing to counter on substance, attack the opponent’s personality…

«I think this conversation is over,» he said, heading to the door. His mother followed him but stopped at the exit. «Alex,» she said quietly, — «I understand you’re angry.

But think carefully; we’re the only family you have. With your… appearance and character. You’ll be left alone.»

This last manipulation attempt only caused Alex a sad smile. «You know, Mom, I’d rather be alone than with those who consider me a burden and a source of shame. Goodbye.»

When the door closed behind his mother, Alex felt not bitterness or regret, but strange relief. As if he had dropped a heavy load from his shoulders that he had carried for many years. The next two weeks passed relatively calmly.

The family seemed to have come to terms with the inevitable; calls and messages became less frequent, and their tone shifted from aggressive to pleading. Victor no longer threatened with connections in the administration, and his mother didn’t remind of her sacrifices. One evening, leaving the gym where Alex had recently signed up, he ran into Mary.

She stood at the entrance, nervously shifting from foot to foot. «Hi,» she said, smiling tensely. «I called, but you didn’t pick up.»

«Phone in the locker,» explained Alex. «Waiting for me?» Mary nodded. «Can we sit somewhere? Talk?» They went to a small cafe on the next street.

Mary looked depressed: dark circles under her eyes, pale face, chapped lips. «How was the honeymoon?» asked Alex when they settled at the table. «Fine,» she shrugged.

«We were in Miami for a week.» Congratulations on the marriage, he really wanted things to work out well for his sister, despite the offense. «Thanks,» Mary twirled the salt shaker in her hands, not daring to get to the main topic.

«Alex, I heard you’re going to sell the apartment?» «Yes. But why?» «Even if you want Mom and Victor to move out, you could just rent it. It’s…

Inheritance from Dad.» Alex looked closely at his sister. «That’s why, Mary.

Dad left me this apartment so I’d feel secure. So I’d have a home where I’m respected. And what happened in the end?» Mary lowered her gaze.

«We acted horribly, I know. But Mom and Victor. They panicked because of this wedding.

There really were important people there, on whom Victor’s career depends. And my presence could ruin everything,» finished Alex for her. «Because I’m not presentable enough, right?» «I didn’t mean that,» protested Mary.

«But that’s exactly what you all thought,» Alex replied calmly. «And you know what’s the saddest? You didn’t even try to find a compromise. Didn’t suggest, for example, that I trim my beard or wear some special suit.

You just decided I’m so awful looking that I should disappear.» Mary was silent, fiddling with a napkin. «I wanted to invite you,» she finally said quietly.

«But Victor insisted. And you chose his side. He’s my stepfather.

He raised me since I was 12. And I’m your brother,» Alex replied simply. «And I paid for that damn wedding.»

Mary covered her face with her hands. «I know. I’m a terrible sister.

I ruined everything.» Alex sighed. He didn’t want to hurt her; after all, Mary was really caught between two fires.

«It’s not about you, Mary.» This was the last straw in a long series of humiliations. «I just decided enough is enough.

But selling the apartment.» She lifted her teary eyes to him. «Where will they go? That’s their problem,» Alex replied firmly.

«They’re adults. They’ll have to learn to live within their means. And if they don’t find anything suitable? Rental housing downtown costs a fortune, and in the suburbs.

It’s dangerous there.» Alex shook his head. «Mary, you’re exaggerating.

First, you don’t have to live downtown. Second, Victor has a mother with a two-bedroom apartment in the suburbs. But it’s so far from work.

Then he’ll have to get up earlier,» Alex shrugged. «Millions of people commute daily from the suburbs to work. Nothing terrible about it…

Mary looked completely lost. I don’t know what to do.» Mom’s hysterical, Victor’s angry at everyone.

«It’s impossible to be at home.» «Then don’t be,» advised Alex. «You have a husband, and I assume your own apartment.

Live your life.» «But they’re my family.» «And mine too,» Alex replied quietly.

«But sometimes you need to set boundaries even with family. Especially with family. They talked for about another hour.

Mary tried to find a compromise: maybe Alex would give them more time. Or help with a down payment on a mortgage. Or at least with the first months of rent.

I won’t help them anymore,» Alex replied firmly. «For fifteen years, I carried them on my back. Now let them learn to live independently.»

When they said goodbye at the cafe exit, Mary suddenly hugged him, unexpectedly tight for her fragile figure. «I still love you, you bearded fool,» she whispered. «And I love you,» replied Alex, feeling his heart tighten.

«Be happy, kid.» Three days before the eviction deadline, Alex received a message from his mother, «We found an apartment. Moving out tomorrow.

Leaving the keys with the neighbor.» He didn’t reply but felt a strange mixture of relief and slight sadness. Something was changing irrevocably in his life.

The next day, Andrew reported that there were no legal obstacles to the sale; the documents were clean, no encumbrances on the apartment. «I’ll contact the realtor,» said Alex, «and schedule showings next week. Sure you want to sell?»

Andrew clarified. «It’s a good investment. You could rent it and get passive income.»

Alex shook his head. «I don’t want anything to do with this apartment. Too many memories.»

A week later, Alex entered his apartment for the first time in a long time. Strange feeling to be the formal owner of a place he hadn’t lived in for years. The family had indeed moved out, taking all the furniture and personal items.

The empty rooms seemed larger but still bore the imprint of others’ presence: scuffs on the floor from furniture, marks from pictures on the walls, the smell of someone else’s perfume. Alex slowly walked through the apartment, peeking into every corner. In his childhood room, which Mary had occupied in recent years, a small porcelain figurine—a ballerina—remained on the windowsill, which he had given his sister for her tenth birthday.

Did she forget it accidentally or leave it on purpose? He carefully took the figurine and put it in his pocket. Leaving, Alex looked back at the empty apartment one last time. Part of his life remained here: childhood, youth, first steps into adulthood.

But he felt no regret. Only certainty that he was doing the right thing. «Time to move on,» he said quietly, locking the door.

Autumn gave way to winter, and Alex, contrary to many expectations, felt no regret about his decisions or desire to restore broken ties. The downtown Chicago apartment, which had served as the family nest for many years, was sold for $425,000, even a bit more than the realtor had forecasted. The deal went quickly and without complications; a young family with two children was thrilled with the spacious rooms and convenient location.

On the day of signing the documents, Alex felt a strange lightness. As if he had cut the last thread tying him to the past that caused pain. The money hit his account, opening new opportunities.

After much thought, Alex decided not to rush into buying new real estate in the city. Instead, he started looking for a suburban house, spacious, with land, away from the city hustle but with good transportation access. A place where he could create personal space matching his ideas of comfort…

Interesting choice, noted Andrew when they met for lunch a month after the apartment sale. So you’ve decided to become a real bearded hermit? Alex smirked, stroking his red beard, which had grown even fuller in recent months. Rather, decided to live for my own pleasure, not by others’ expectations.

And work? Won’t there be issues with remote? I’ve already discussed with management. Three days a week I can work from home, two in the office.

Moreover, I’m thinking about switching to full remote and opening my own cybersecurity business. Ambitious, Andrew nodded with respect. You’ve changed a lot in recent months.

It was true. Alex had indeed changed, both externally and internally. He started regularly going to the gym, updated his wardrobe to something more stylish but still comfortable, became more confident in communicating with people.

The red beard, once a constant subject of mockery in the family, now attracted approving glances: groomed, neatly trimmed, it became part of his image. Any word from your mother? Andrew asked cautiously. Mary called last week, replied Alex, stirring his coffee.

Says they moved to Victor’s mother’s in Naperville. Two-bedroom in an old house, two hours to the stepfather’s work. He’s furious, of course, but no choice.

And your mom? Judging by Mary’s words, she’s still offended and considers me a family traitor. Anyway, it doesn’t touch me anymore. On the way home, Alex pondered the conversation with his friend.

Did his mother’s opinion really not affect him anymore? The honest answer was, almost not. Somewhere deep inside, a small thorn remained; after all, it was his family, his roots. But with each day, that thorn bothered him less.

That evening, Alex received a message from the realtor helping him search for a suburban house. Alexander, an interesting option came up. House 1,600 sq ft, lot 0.3 acres, forest nearby, 30 minutes from the city.

Owner selling urgently, price below market. Can you view tomorrow? «Yes, of course,» replied Alex, feeling interest igniting inside. The next day, he first saw the house that would soon become his new home.

Two-story, made of timber, with a spacious veranda and panoramic windows overlooking the forest. The lot, though not perfectly maintained, had great potential: several fruit trees, space for barbecue, even a small pond in the far corner. The owner needs to move abroad urgently, so the price is reduced, explained the realtor, showing Alex the rooms.

$250,000 for everything, including furniture. By market, such an object is worth at least $50,000 more. Alex slowly toured the house, studying every corner.

Spacious living room with fireplace, kitchen-dining room, office and guest bedroom on the first floor. On the second—master bedroom with en-suite bathroom and two more small bedrooms. In the basement—sauna and utility room.

Everything was just as he dreamed. «I’ll take it,» said Alex, standing on the veranda and looking at the forest covered in first snow. «When can we do the paperwork?» The deal closed in record time.

Just two weeks later, Alex got the keys to his new house. He spent the whole winter furnishing the dwelling: finishing minor repairs, ordering missing furniture, setting up the office for work. By late February, the house had transformed, becoming an exact reflection of his taste and preferences: functional, cozy, with thoughtful details.

One evening, as Alex sat by the fireplace with a book, a sound rang out. New horizons, the apartment sale deal closed faster than Alex expected. The buyer, a brisk middle-aged woman with a business grip, appreciated the location and layout, processed the mortgage in record time, and three weeks after the first viewing, signed all documents. $425,000 hit Alex’s account, drawing a thick line under his past life.

Not bad, noted Andrew when they met to drink to it. Enough money for good new housing and some left over. «I’ve already eyed something,» nodded Alex, twirling a glass of whiskey in his hands.

«But it won’t be an apartment.» «Oh!» his friend got interested. «What then?» A house in the suburbs.

20 miles from the city, next to the forest. Great place for … starting a new life. Suburban life? Andrew smiled skeptically.

«That’s quite a radical change for a city guy.» Alex smirked, stroking his red beard. «I’ve been told I look like a lumberjack anyway…

Maybe it’s time to match the image?» They both laughed, but Alex felt the decision was right. The last months had radically changed his outlook on life. Liberation from toxic family relationships was like lifting an invisible burden from his shoulders, finally allowing him to listen to his own desires, not others’ expectations.

The house he had eyed was exactly what he’d been missing in recent years—space, silence, room for creativity and work. Two-story, made of glued laminated timber, with panoramic windows in the living room overlooking the forest. Large kitchen, three bedrooms, office, spacious veranda, and a 0.3-acre lot partially planted with fruit trees.

$250,000 including all furniture, Alex explained to his friend. The owner is urgently moving abroad, so selling almost for nothing. Sounds like a great deal, agreed Andrew.

And work? You’re not planning to commute to the office every day from the suburbs? Switching to remote, Alex sipped his whiskey. Already arranged. Two days a week, I’ll come to the office, the rest—work from home.

And in the future, thinking about my own cybersecurity business. Wow! You’ve really thought it all out. After so many years living by someone else’s script, it’s time to write my own.

At the end of March, when the snow had almost melted, revealing the first signs of spring, Alex finally moved to his new house. The process was challenging, taking several weeks to move things, buy missing furniture, set up reliable internet for work. But the result exceeded all expectations.

On an early April morning, Alex stepped onto the veranda with a cup of freshly brewed coffee, inhaled the forest air deeply, and felt an amazing calm spreading inside. For the first time in many years, he felt at home. Not in a place where he temporarily stayed, but in a real home where every corner matched his ideas of comfort and harmony.

The day started early; at six in the morning, Alex was already up. An hour for a run on forest trails, then breakfast on the veranda if the weather allowed, and at nine, to the desk in the spacious office. The panoramic windows let in enough light not to turn on lamps even on cloudy days.

Evenings he devoted to landscaping the lot or reading by the fireplace. The old phone number now rarely bothered him with calls. His mother hadn’t contacted since they moved out of the apartment.

Mary called about once every two weeks, at first awkwardly, as if afraid to touch a sore subject, then more naturally. «How did you settle in there?» asked Alex during one such call, lounging in a chair on the veranda. Tolerably, fatigue was in his sister’s voice.

Victor still grumbles about the long commute to work. «Mom! Well, you know Mom. She thinks you treated us cruelly.»

«And you?» asked Alex, looking at the sunset painting the forest in warm orange tones. «I.» Mary paused.

«I understand you, Alex. As hard as it is to admit, but we’re to blame ourselves. Especially me. You can’t treat your own brother like that.»

«Maybe it’s for the best,» Alex said thoughtfully. «Sometimes you need a strong push to understand what you really want from life. And what do you want?» Interest appeared in his sister’s voice.

To live my own life. Create my space. Not constantly look back at others’ standards and expectations…

The conversation left a warm feeling. Despite everything that happened, he held no grudge against his sister. Mary was young, under strong influence from mother and stepfather.

Maybe someday their relationship would return to the former closeness. In early May, when the lot began to come alive after winter, Alex decided to turn part of the land into a garden: small but functional. He had never gardened before, but the idea of growing his own vegetables seemed appealing.

For starters, he chose the most unpretentious crops—zucchini, pumpkins, tomatoes, and greens. One morning, while digging beds, Alex heard the sound of an approaching car. It was unusual; his house stood aside from the main cottage communities, on a dead-end street with only three houses, and neighbors appeared rarely, mostly on weekends.

Straightening up and brushing dirt from his hands, he saw an unfamiliar car stop at his gate. A moment later, a woman about 35 stepped out, in a simple linen blouse and jeans. In her hands, she held a small basket covered with a checkered towel.

«Good day!» she called, noticing Alex. «Are you the new owner?» «Yes,» he headed to the gate, wiping his hands on his jeans along the way. «I’ve been living here about a month.

I’m Anna,» the woman smiled, extending her free hand for a shake. «I’m your neighbor from the end house. Decided to drop by to introduce myself and bring some of my signature baking.

Housewarming, after all.» Alex involuntarily smiled back. In the city, such spontaneous neighborly acquaintance would be unthinkable, but here, in quiet suburban life, it seemed natural.

Alex introduced himself, shaking her hand and opening the gate. «Nice to meet you. Come in, please.

I can offer coffee or tea on the veranda.» Anna turned out to be an artist who moved to the suburbs three years ago in search of inspiration and peace. She lived alone, except for two cats and a dog, and earned by selling paintings online and conducting workshops.

«I mostly paint landscapes,» Anna told, sitting on Alex’s veranda with a cup of tea. «The local nature is an inexhaustible source of subjects. Every season, every time of day, transforms the forest beyond recognition.

I’ve noticed,» nodded Alex. «I work from home; the office windows overlook the forest. Sometimes I catch myself staring at the trees for hours instead of the monitor.

They talked easily, jumping from topic to topic, from suburban life peculiarities to favorite books and movies. Alex hadn’t met a person with whom it was so easy to communicate in a long time. Anna didn’t seem embarrassed by his appearance, massive figure, and red beard.

On the contrary, at one point she noted. «You have an amazing textured appearance. I’d like to paint your portrait someday, if you’ll allow.»

«A portrait?» Alex was surprised. «No one’s ever painted me.» «Then it’ll be the first time,» Anna smiled.

«Think about my offer.» When she left, she invited Alex to a barbecue next weekend to meet other neighbors and just relax. He agreed, feeling a strange excitement, long forgotten and youthfully thrilling…

Life slowly but surely acquired new colors. Alex spent more time outdoors, tending the lot or just walking the surroundings. During work hours, he immersed in code, solving complex corporate system protection tasks.

Evenings he read, watched movies, or chatted with new acquaintances from neighboring houses: surprisingly open and friendly people. In June, he accepted Anna’s offer to pose for a portrait. She came on weekends, set up an easel on his veranda, and worked for several hours while Alex read or just looked at the forest.

I can’t get used to the silence, he confessed one day. In the city, there’s always background noise: cars, neighbors, appliances. And here, only wind, birds, and sometimes a distant tractor.

I took a long time to adjust too, nodded Anna, not looking up from the canvas. The first months, I even played recordings of city sounds to fall asleep. Then I realized that silence isn’t the absence of sounds.

It’s the presence of sounds that really matter. Alex looked at her, focused, with a strand of hair falling on her face, with that special light in her eyes that appears in people doing what they love. Something aching pricked inside, feelings he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

Summer flew by unnoticed. Alex fully settled into the new house, made friends with neighbors, harvested his first modest crop from the garden. Professionally, changes were also emerging.

The company where he worked offered him to head a new cybersecurity direction with fully remote format. Autumn greeted him with gold and crimson forests, cool morning mists, and especially piercing clean air. On one such day, when Alex was working on the veranda wrapped in a warm blanket, his phone suddenly rang with an unknown number.

«Hello?» he answered, continuing to look at the laptop screen. «Alex?» The voice was vaguely familiar, but Alex couldn’t remember who it belonged to. «This is Victor.»

From surprise, Alex froze. The stepfather never called him directly, preferring to communicate through his mother. «What do I owe?» he asked, trying to sound neutral.

«I need to talk to you?» Victor’s voice sounded different from what Alex remembered: without the usual arrogance, rather weary. «In person? Is it? Important? About what? Not over the phone, Alex. Can we meet somewhere? Or I can come to you if you give the address?» Alex hesitated.

Curiosity battled wariness. Why did the stepfather need this meeting? What important thing does he want to say? «Fine,» he finally decided. «We can meet tomorrow at ‘Central’ cafe, at three.

Know where it is?» «I’ll find it,» relief sounded in Victor’s voice. «Thanks.» The next day, driving to the cafe in downtown Chicago, Alex felt strange tension.

He hadn’t seen the family in almost a year, since they moved out of his apartment. In that time, so many changes had happened in his life that the former pain and offense had almost dissolved, leaving only light sadness that close people proved incapable of unconditional acceptance. Victor was already waiting at a table in the cafe corner.

Alex didn’t recognize his stepfather right away; he had noticeably aged in the past year. Thinning hair with abundant gray, sunken face, dull gaze. The usual posture was gone, as if all the air had been let out of the man.

«Hello, Alex,» Victor stood up, extending his hand. «Hello,» Alex shook his stepfather’s hand and sat opposite. «I’m listening.»

Victor paused, nervously drumming his fingers on the table. «I was never a good stepfather,» he finally began. «And now I won’t pretend I regret everything.

But…» He raised his eyes to Alex. «I came to ask for your help, not for myself. For your mother.

What happened?» Alex tensed. They found a tumor in her. In the breast.

Possibly malignant. Needs surgery and further treatment. Alex felt something cold spreading inside.

When did you find out? Two weeks ago. Did a biopsy, waiting for results, but doctors aren’t too optimistic. «Why didn’t she call herself?» asked Alex, understanding the question was stupid.

«Of course, his mother didn’t call because of pride, because of offense, because of everything that happened between them. You know your mother…» Victor smiled wearily. «She’d rather die than admit she needs help.

Especially yours. She still thinks you betrayed the family. And you…» Victor shrugged.

«What difference does it make what I think? The fact is we’re in a tough situation. My salary barely covers living and rent, and now treatment too. He spread his hands…

I’m not asking for millions. Just help with initial treatment costs. For her sake, not mine.

Alex pondered. Despite everything that happened, it was about his mother. The woman who gave him life, raised him, even if not always fairly.

«Fine,» he finally said. «I’ll pay for the treatment. But on one condition: I want to talk to her personally and to the attending doctor.»

Victor nodded with obvious relief. «Of course. She’s at home now.

We can go right now if you’re okay with it.» On the way to Naperville, Alex looked out the car window at the passing city and thought about fate’s strange twists. A year ago, he was ready to erase the family from his life forever.

Now fate was returning him to the same people, but in a different role: independent of their opinions son, a self-sufficient person able to help in a difficult moment. Victor’s mother’s apartment turned out just as Alex imagined: small two-bedroom in an old panel building, with low ceilings, cramped kitchen, and scant furniture. Victor’s mother, an elderly woman with kind eyes, was absent, apparently tactfully left to give them a chance to talk privately.

Alex’s mother sat in the room in front of the TV with the sound off. She had noticeably lost weight, facial features sharpened, and anxiety read in her eyes. Seeing her entering son, she flinched and straightened, as if gathering strength.

«Why did you come?» she asked, not looking at Victor. – Why did you bring him? – Hello, Mom, – Alex said quietly, sitting in the armchair opposite. – Victor told me about your diagnosis.

– And what? – Challenge in her voice. – Came to watch me die? Gloat over your revenge? – Mom, – Alex shook his head, – I never wished you harm. You kicked us out of the house.

Her voice trembled with indignation. Forced us to live in this cage, where Victor has to spend two hours on the road. – I didn’t kick you out, – Alex replied calmly.

– I just stopped supporting adults who didn’t respect me and my feelings. There’s a difference. – What difference? – She threw up her hands…

– You betrayed your family. – And yet I’m here, – Alex said quietly. – And ready to help with treatment.

His mother fell silent, as if not expecting such a turn. – I don’t need your help, – she finally said, but without the former fervor. – I’ll manage myself.

– How? – Alex asked directly. – On pension? Or Victor’s salary? His mother turned away, hiding her gaze. – Health is more important than pride, – Mom, – continued Alex.

– I’ll pay for the treatment. Not so you’d be grateful to me, but simply because you’re my mother. And I want you to live.

Silence hung in the room, broken only by the ticking of the wall clock. Finally, his mother turned to him, and Alex saw tears in her eyes. – You’ve changed, – she said quietly.

– Become? Different? – Yes, – agreed Alex. – I finally became myself. And you know what? It turned out to be the best decision in my life.

On the way back, late in the evening, Alex thought about fate’s strange twists. It turns out a person needs to go through pain and rupture to find their true path. He had to lose his family to find himself.

Approaching his house, he saw light in the neighboring windows; Anna wasn’t sleeping. Her silhouette flashed behind the curtains; probably working late on a new painting. Alex’s portrait, by the way, was already finished: amazingly accurate, reflecting not only appearance but as if the soul itself.

On it, Alex was depicted against the forest background, with a light half-smile and a calm, confident gaze. The way he had become in his new home. The way he always should have been.

Dad would be proud of me, thought Alex, getting out of the car and inhaling the fresh night air. The downtown apartment left to him as inheritance had served its purpose, not as a place to live, but as a lesson. Sometimes you need to lose something valuable to find the priceless.

And the most important inheritance, Alex mused, looking at the starry sky, is not apartments or money. It’s the ability to stay true to yourself, no matter what. With this thought, he headed to the glowing windows of his house, where on the veranda, sheltered from the night chill, an unfinished tea and unread book awaited him.

Life continued, by his own rules.