“She Threw Our Parents Into the Garage — I Made Her Regret It the Next Day”
I call my mom almost every day. She always says the same thing: “We’re doing just fine, sweetheart.”
So for Easter, I decided to surprise them. No call. No warning. Just a backseat full of chocolate eggs, fresh tulips, and a heart full of excitement.
But the moment I pulled into the driveway… something felt off.
There were no Easter decorations in the windows — the ones my mom always put up. No scent of ham roasting in the oven. No soft music. No warmth.
I knocked. Waited. Knocked again. No answer.
I used my spare key and stepped in — and froze.
The living room was unrecognizable. Cold gray walls. Modern, minimal furniture. Not a single photo of us. It looked like an Airbnb, not the home we grew up in.
And then I heard her.
Cassandra. My older sister. Laughing from the kitchen. I peeked around and saw her, sipping wine with her new boyfriend, like nothing was wrong.
Confused and panicked, I slipped out the back door… and that’s when I saw it.
The garage door was slightly open. Inside were two cots, a camping stove, and the unmistakable sound of my mother shivering beneath her coat. My father smiled when he saw me, but it was forced. He tried to act like this was fine.
It wasn’t.
They told me the truth.
After Cassandra moved in with her boyfriend, she convinced them the house needed “fresh energy” — said the garage would be a “temporary solution” for them. She turned their home into her own little palace and exiled our parents like unwanted guests.
And they agreed — because they loved her. Because they didn’t want conflict. Because they didn’t want to make things worse.
That’s when I snapped.
I looked at them and said, “Pack a bag. I’ll be back in one hour.”
I didn’t call the police.
What I did was worse — and far more satisfying.
What happened next? Let’s just say Cassandra learned exactly what it feels like to be kicked out of your own kingdom.