On Christmas Eve, I woke up to an empty house! My whole family secretly left to a luxury vacation…

My parents, unable to carry the mortgage alone, sold the house. Moved into a cramped rental in a town no one can pronounce.

The group chat? Deleted. Family dinners? Gone. Everyone’s living separate lives now, spread across places they never wanted to end up.

No one speaks. Not really. Not to each other. Certainly not to me.

The other night, I made dinner with my roommate. Just pasta and sauce. Nothing fancy. We opened a cheap bottle of wine and watched something trashy on TV.

At one point, he looked over and said, «You’ve been smiling a lot more lately. You know that?»

I hadn’t noticed. But I believed him.

After he went to bed, I sat out on the little balcony. Blanket over my knees. Mug of tea in my hand. Just breathing in the cold, still air.

No noise. No texts. No weight on my chest. Just… peace.

I didn’t want revenge. I just wanted to be free. And now I am.

They used to say I wasn’t really part of the family. Turns out they were right. I was the foundation. And they didn’t notice until I walked out.

Sometimes I still wonder if I went too far. Not often. But sometimes.