I built a house, but on the day of the housewarming, my mother announced that I should give my house to my “poor” brother: But it seems she forgot how she kicked me out of the house when I was eighteen 

My story began eleven years ago, when I had just turned eighteen. That day, my biological mother put me out the door with an empty backpack and a cold phrase:

— You’re an adult now, you’ll manage on your own.

She didn’t care that I had no job, no education, and not even a place to go. She slammed the door, leaving me alone. I remember that night: cold, hunger, despair, and one thought — survive.

I survived. I worked from morning till night: unloading crates, mopping floors, laying bricks. At the same time, I studied and took any side job I could get.

Soon, I was able to buy a small plot of land and started building a house.

By the age of twenty-nine, I already had a stable job, a car, and this house. Yes, I didn’t have a family yet, but I believed: everything was ahead of me. On the day of the housewarming, I gathered friends, relatives, and even my mother — despite everything in the past, I wanted to show her that I had made it.

But instead of congratulations, my mother pulled me aside and said:

— Son, give this house to your brother. He lives with his wife and child in a rented apartment; they have it harder. And for you, a room at our place is enough. You’re alone, without a family…

I looked at her, incredulous. It seemed she had forgotten how she had thrown me out before. She thought the boy who silently endured everything was still in front of her. But in front of her now stood a man.

And in that moment, I remembered all the wrongs and did something that left my mother in shock, until she ran out of the house crying…

I didn’t speak quietly. I said it in front of everyone:

— Just because you gave birth to me doesn’t give you the right to ruin my life. I achieved everything on my own. On my own! And your favorite son has spent his whole life living off you and will continue to do so for many years. I will be fine — I will build a family, raise my children. And you will remain as pathetic as ever.

She turned pale, but I didn’t stop.

— I don’t consider you my mother. I despise you for how you humiliated me as a child, how you left me alone at home while you went off with men. And be grateful I haven’t told the police yet what you do with your friends on weekends. Do you think I don’t notice? Enough. Out of my house. I don’t want to see you again.

Silence fell in the room. My mother went pale, her face twisted, and a second later she burst into tears and ran out the door. The relatives looked at each other; no one dared to speak.

No one will ever control my fate again.