I froze.
“The same place?” I asked. “The one you gave me full of trash? The one I cleaned, painted, rebuilt?”
“Well… yes. She doesn’t really have—”
“No,” I said calmly. Firmly. “Thanks for the dirty place. Truly. But this isn’t dirty anymore. This is mine.”
Mom looked at me for a moment, took a sip of water, and left without another word.
That same week, I moved out. I found another space—smaller, more expensive, but truly mine.
And this time, no one could take it away.