No Free House

The bouquet was exquisitely wrapped, with the wish list folded into a heart at its center.

Roses had been arranged carefully around it, making the whole thing look expensive and romantic.

"Mom! I love you!

"This is my gift to you. This is my first time being a daughter, and you've always tolerated me, understood me, and sacrificed so much for me!"

Chloe stood across from me beneath the warm lights, her curls meticulously styled and her smile so perfect it looked as though she'd practiced it a hundred times.

In my previous life, she'd also held the bouquet out to me in front of everyone and loudly thanked me.

I hadn't thought much of it. I assumed the paper tucked inside was a letter, so I didn't open it on the spot.

I believed it would be filled with gratitude for everything I'd done for her over the years.

I held that bouquet through the entire graduation party, then carefully opened the note only after I got home.

That was when I saw the wish list.

From a house to a manicure, she'd assigned a price tag to eighteen years of care.

The final line, bolded in red, cut into my eyes like a knife:

"After this property is purchased, it will be for Chloe Collins's exclusive use. No one else will be permitted inside!"

Back then, I'd still been naive enough to knock on her bedroom door and speak to her gently.

"Chloe, we truly can't come up with the $90,000 down payment for the new house right now. Could we wait until after you graduate from college..."

She smiled and said that was fine.

Then she turned around and posted a long essay online, attaching a secretly taken photo of my back while I was upset.

The headline read: "My Mother Is Severely Mentally Ill."

Tens of thousands of comments flooded in: "Protect this girl," "Run while you can," and "Call the police."

The story exploded online, and I lost my job.

Someone splashed red paint across my front door. Banners calling me an abusive mother, a psycho, and a monster covered the walls.

I tried to explain, but no one believed me. I begged for help, but no one cared.

Eventually, I found the apartment my daughter was renting and went there to confront her face-to-face.

We argued, and she shoved me.

The railing was too low. I fell straight over it.

The fall was brief, so brief that I didn't even have time to wonder where I'd gone wrong in life.

Now, in this life, I looked at the daughter standing before me.

Chloe was still smiling sweetly, holding the bouquet out in both hands.

Our relatives and friends still had their phones raised, recording us.

If she didn't want to enjoy a perfectly good graduation party, then she wouldn't get one.