The chef’s knife fell onto the cutting board with a steady rhythm, slicing the crisp green cucumber into uniform, thin pieces. The evening sun streamed in through the window, casting a warm golden glow on the countertop. Thump, thump, thump. The sound of the knife hitting the board was especially clear in the quiet kitchen. Late at night, the front door opened with a heavy thud, and the smell of wine and perfume drifted in before they had even stepped inside. Then their footsteps stopped. The silence stretched taut enough to snap, and I turned to meet their stunned faces as they saw me standing there, blade gleaming, hands steady, everything in me calm and still.

I’m Eleanor. I’m sixty-eight, and I have spent most of my life slicing vegetables, making soup, and keeping a family together. I have a son named Julian, a daughter-in-law named Clara, and a grandson named Leo. I had lived with them for three years, ever since my husband Arthur passed away, and ever since Leo was born and Clara needed to go back to work. Julian picked me up himself and said, “Mom, we don’t feel right with you living all alone. Come live with us. You can help look after Leo, too.” The phrase help look after Leo, too had sounded sharp to me at the time, but I didn’t let it bother me. My grandson needed me. That was enough.

I put the sliced cucumbers onto a plate and took two tomatoes out of the refrigerator. Julian had always loved the meatloaf I used to make. As a child, he could eat two huge helpings with a single serving. Thinking of my son, the corners of my mouth turned up in a smile. Even though he was now a successful department manager, in my eyes, he would always be that chubby little boy with two dimples when he smiled.

“Grandma, Grandma,” a tender, childish voice called from the living room, accompanied by the pitter-patter of tiny feet. My little Leo ran into the kitchen and threw his arms around my leg. “Whoa there, my little treasure,” I said quickly, putting down the knife, wiping my hands, and bending down to pick him up. Three-year-old Leo was heavy in my arms. His round eyes just like his father’s when he was a boy.

“Grandma, look,” Leo held up a colorful drawing covered in crooked lines and shapes. “What is this?” “Let grandma guess,” I said, pretending to think. “Is it a car?” “No,” Leo giggled. “It’s a big dinosaur.” “Wow. So, it’s a big dinosaur. You drew it so well,” I said, kissing his little cheek. “How about we show it to Daddy when he gets home?” “When is Daddy coming home?” he asked. I looked up at the clock on the wall. It was already 6:20 p.m. “Soon, soon,” I said. “Daddy’s on his way home from work.”

Just as I said that, we heard the sound of the front door unlocking. Leo slipped out of my arms and shot towards the door like a car. “Daddy.” I followed him to the entryway and saw Julian bending down to pick up Leo. His face tired but wearing a happy smile. My son was dressed in a sharp suit. His tie slightly loosened and fine lines had started to appear at the corners of his eyes. Time really flies.

“Mom,” Julian nodded at me, hoisting Leo onto his shoulders. “There was some great news at the office today.” “What good news?” I asked, taking his briefcase. I could smell a faint scent of sweat. He got that from his father—always sweating easily. Julian’s eyes lit up, his voice an octave higher. “I got promoted to department manager.” “Really?” I clapped my hands in delight. “That’s wonderful. I knew my son was capable.” I paused, turning to go back to the kitchen. “Hold on, Mom. I’ll add a couple more dishes. We have to celebrate properly.” I turned to go back to the kitchen, but Julian stopped me. “No need, Mom. I’ve already booked a private room at the Oak Room. I’m treating my department colleagues to dinner. Clara is coming straight from the mall over there. I just came back to change my clothes and then I’m leaving.”

My hand froze in midair. I slowly turned around. “Oh, that’s very nice. You young people go celebrate. I’ll just stay home and watch Leo.” Julian didn’t seem to notice my disappointment. Loosening his tie, he said, “We’re taking Leo, too. My in-laws are already waiting there.” My heart suddenly sank. “Your in-laws?” The words left my mouth before I realized he meant Clara’s parents. “Yeah. Clara said, ‘The whole family has to be there for such a happy occasion,’” Julian said, draping his suit jacket over the back of the sofa. “Mom, don’t trouble yourself. There are leftovers in the fridge. You can just heat them up and eat.”

I nodded, forcing a smile. “Okay. You all go have a good time.” Julian quickly took a shower, changed his clothes, and left with Leo in his arms. After the sound of the door closing, the only thing left in the kitchen was the gurgling of the soup simmering on the stove. I slowly walked back into the kitchen, turned off the heat, and looked at the ingredients I had prepared. Suddenly, I had no appetite to cook.

The Oak Room was a high-end restaurant. Clara’s parents went too often. Arthur and I had only been to places like that a few times in our entire lives. “Forget it,” I muttered to myself. “I’m too old to get used to that fancy food. Anyway.” I wrapped the cucumber and tomatoes in plastic wrap and put them back in the refrigerator. In the freezer, there was still half a dish of leftover meatloaf from yesterday and a bowl of rice. That was enough dinner for one person. Just as the microwave beeped, my phone rang.

It was a text from Clara. “Mom, remember to eat the leftovers in the kitchen fridge. Don’t let them go to waste.” I was about to reply when another message came in. It was a photo in a luxurious private room. Julian stood in the middle holding a glass of wine. Clara and her parents sat on either side of him. Leo was on his maternal grandfather’s lap and everyone at the table was beaming. In the corner of the photo, I could even see Julian’s sister and brother-in-law. So, the entire family was there. I was the only one missing.

My finger hovered over the screen for a moment before I finally replied with a single word. “Okay.” I placed my phone face down on the dining table, the plastic case making a crisp clicking sound against the glass. The leftover meatloaf in the microwave gave off a rich, savory aroma. But I had suddenly lost my appetite.

The clock in the living room pointed to 7:30, and it was completely dark outside. I mechanically carried my food to the coffee table and turned on the television. The local evening news was on, the anchorwoman’s bright red lips opening and closing. I didn’t hear a single word. My fingers, as if with a mind of their own, unlocked my phone and opened the photo album, scrolling to pictures from three years ago. It was the first New Year’s after Arthur passed away. Our whole family took a group photo at the portrait studio near our building. Julian stood in the middle with me on his left and Clara on his right. Leo was surrounded by the three of us sitting on a small stool in the front row. Back then, I was still a part of the family portrait.

A burst of laughter from the television pulled me back to reality. A family sitcom was playing on the screen. The actors were gathered around a dining table talking and laughing. I turned off the TV and the room instantly fell silent, save for the occasional hum of the refrigerator’s compressor. Getting up, I walked towards Julian’s bedroom, or I should say their master bedroom now. The door was unlocked. I pushed it open gently and my eyes were met with a huge wedding photo hanging on the wall above the bed. Clara was in a pure white wedding gown and Julian was in a black suit. They were smiling radiantly in the picture. I remember that wedding dress was custom-made. It cost nearly $3,000, which was half of Arthur’s annual pension. The vanity was covered with bottles and jars. I recognized a few as the expensive skin care products Julian had given Clara for her last birthday. Next to it was an exquisite jewelry box filled with gold pieces, most of which Arthur and I had given them over the years. In the most prominent spot was a diamond necklace that Julian had bought for their fifth wedding anniversary last year.

I gently closed the door and turned to Leo’s room. The children’s room was a riot of color with cartoon stickers on the walls and toys piled in the corner. I picked up the teddy bear from his bedside. I had sewn it myself when Leo was born. It was a little worn now, but Leo always had to hug it to sleep. “At least Leo still needs me,” I murmured, putting the bear back in its place.

Back in the living room, my gaze fell on the family photo albums on the bookshelf. I took down the most recent one. A thin layer of dust had settled on the cover. I opened the first page. It was a black and white photo of Julian at one month old, a tiny thing wrapped in a swaddle. My own young face was beaming with the joy of new motherhood. Flipping through, there was Julian’s first day of kindergarten, clinging to my shirt and refusing to let go. At his elementary school graduation, he wore a big red corsage and recited a poem on the stage. In middle school, he won first prize in a math competition, smiling shyly on the awards podium. The day his college acceptance letter arrived, the whole family set off firecrackers in the yard to celebrate.

Every single photo documented the little things and the big things I had done for my son. To get him into a good school district, Arthur and I scrimped and saved to buy that house. To pay for his tutoring, I didn’t buy any new clothes for three years straight. The year he took the SATs, I woke up at 4:00 every morning to make him soup to keep his strength up.

My phone suddenly rang, jolting me out of my memories. The screen showed Carol—an old neighbor and one of the few old friends I still kept in touch with. “Hello, Eleanor,” Carol’s loud voice came through the receiver. “Have you eaten?” “Yes. Yes, I’ve eaten. How about you?” I tried to make my voice sound normal. “I just finished. I was bored. So, I thought I’d give you a call,” Carol said, then paused. “Oh, by the way, I heard your Julian got a promotion. Clara ran into me in the neighborhood today. She was so happy. Said they’ll finally be able to get a bigger house now.”

My fingers unconsciously tightened on the edge of the photo album. “A bigger house?” “Yeah. Clara said they’ve got their eye on that new development on the east side. Those townhouses called Willow Creek Estates.” Carol’s voice was filled with envy. “Your Julian is so successful.” A sharp pain shot through my stomach. Julian had never mentioned anything to me about moving. “Eleanor, are you there?” “Ah, yes. I’m listening,” I managed to reply. “It’s not set in stone yet. You know how Clara likes to talk ahead of things.” “True, true,” Carol said, changing the subject. “By the way, when are you coming back to the old house for a visit? The community is registering for demolition notices and it looks like your building is within the scope.”

“Demolition?” I was completely stunned. “Since when?” “Just in the last couple of weeks. The notices are all posted. The compensation plan looks pretty good, too.” Carol’s tone became puzzled. “What? Julian didn’t tell you.” I took a deep breath. “He might have. My memory isn’t so good lately.” After a few more pleasantries, I hung up, my hands trembling uncontrollably.

Demolition. A new house. These were huge things, and I, his mother, was hearing about them from someone else. I walked out onto the balcony. The early summer night breeze was slightly cool. In the distance, the city’s neon lights flickered. The silhouettes of skyscrapers faded in the darkness. Julian and the others were probably at the Oak Room right now, glasses clinking, celebrating. Were Clara’s parents bragging about their businessman son-in-law again? Was Julian’s sister introducing Clara to her circle of wealthy friends? And me, I was only fit to eat leftovers at home. Not even told about something as major as the demolition of my own home.

Back inside, I opened the album again, stopping on the night of Julian’s college graduation. In the photo, he wore a cap and gown, his arms around Arthur’s and my shoulders. The three of us were smiling so brightly under the sun. Back then, I was still an important person in his life. My finger traced Julian’s young face in the picture, and a tear fell uncontrollably onto the album. I hastily wiped it away, but more followed. “Oh, Arthur,” I whispered to my husband’s gentle, smiling face in the photo. “Our son is all grown up. He doesn’t need me anymore.”

I closed the album and went to the bathroom to wash my face. The woman in the mirror had red, swollen eyes, and the wrinkles seemed deeper than last year. I was sixty-eight years old. At an age when others were enjoying their grandchildren, I was feeling more and more out of place. Back in my bedroom, I opened the closet, my eyes falling on a small suitcase in the corner. It was the one Arthur used during his last hospital stay, filled with his clothes and daily necessities. When he was discharged, the suitcase was empty. Most of his things were left at the hospital or thrown away. I pulled out the suitcase and dusted it off. The wheels were a bit stuck, but it still worked. I opened it. A faint smell of disinfectant still lingered inside. “Just for a few days,” I told myself, and began packing a few changes of clothes and some toiletries. I’ll go stay with Helen for a few days just to clear my head. Helen was a former colleague of mine. Her husband had passed away early and she lived alone in an old apartment complex on the north side of the city. We talked on the phone occasionally and she always told me to come and stay with her for a few days when I had the time.

After packing, I sat on the edge of the bed and wrote a note. “I’m going to stay at Helen’s for a few days. Don’t worry about me,” I thought for a moment and added. “There’s some mac and cheese in the fridge. Leo likes it.” I stuck the note on the refrigerator and took one last look around the house I had lived in for three years. The living room I cleaned every day. The kitchen where I carefully prepared every meal. The small table and chairs where Leo scribbled his drawings. I had given so much yet I felt like an invisible person.

The moment I closed the door, I heard something inside me break. As the elevator descended, I gripped the handle of the suitcase tightly, as if it were the only thing I could hold on to. As I walked out of the building’s main entrance, the security guard, Mike, looked at my suitcase curiously. “Mrs. Eleanor, heading out so late.” “Yes, going to stay with an old friend for a few days,” I managed to smile. “Take care now. Be safe,” Mike waved warmly. I nodded and dragged my suitcase towards the bus stop. The last bus had already left, so I had to hail a taxi.

“Where to?” the driver asked. I gave him Helen’s address and then leaned back against the seat, closing my eyes. The car drove into the night, the distance from home growing farther and farther. My phone vibrated. It was a message from Clara. “Mom, where did you put Leo’s formula? We’re almost home.” I looked at the screen and didn’t reply. Let Julian find it himself. He should remember a little of how I took care of him when he was a child.

The taxi stopped at a red light. Outside the window, a family of three was crossing the street. The young parents held their little girl’s hands between them. They said something and all three of them laughed. My vision blurred again. Once upon a time, Arthur and I held Julian’s hand just like that, thinking that such happiness would last forever.

“Where are we?” the driver’s voice pulled me back to the present. After paying the fare, I stood downstairs from Helen’s apartment, suddenly hesitant. Was it appropriate to disturb her so late? Would she think I was strange? While I was hesitating, my phone rang again. This time it was Julian. “Mom, where did you go? Leo has been crying for his grandma.” I took a deep breath and replied, “I’m at Helen’s for a few days. You two take good care of Leo.” After sending the message, I turned off my phone. Tonight, just for once, I would be selfish.

Dragging my suitcase upstairs, I stood in front of Helen’s door and rang the doorbell. In the few seconds I waited for the door to open, I suddenly realized this was the first decision I had made for myself in three years. When Helen opened the door, her eyes widened like saucers. “Eleanor. My goodness. What is all this?” “Can I stay for a few days?” My voice was hoarser than I expected. Helen immediately pulled me inside and took my suitcase. “What happened? Is it Julian and his family?” “It’s nothing,” I forced a smile, but the muscles on my face felt stiff and disobedient. “I just wanted to get some fresh air.”

Helen’s apartment was small, a one-bedroom, but it was neat and tidy. A photo of her and her late husband hung on the wall. A few green plants sat by the television. The air had a faint scent of sandalwood and an open book and a pair of reading glasses lay on the coffee table. “Have you eaten?” “I can heat up some soup for you,” Helen asked with concern. “No, thank you. I’ve already eaten.” I put down my bag and was suddenly overcome with exhaustion. My legs felt as heavy as lead.

Helen, sensing my condition, didn’t press further. “Then you go take a hot shower first. I’ll make up the bed for you. The sofa pulls out into a bed. It’s very comfortable.” As the hot water washed over my body, I realized I had been trembling the whole time. The steam fogged up the bathroom mirror, blurring my vision along with it. For three years, this was the first time I had showered in a bathroom without Leo’s noisy interruptions, without rushing out to see if he had fallen or bumped into something. Wearing the clean pajamas Helen had prepared for me, I walked out of the bathroom to find she had already made the sofa bed, a glass of warm milk sat on the bedside table. “Drink some milk. It’ll help you sleep,” Helen said, patting my shoulder. “Whatever it is, we can talk about it tomorrow. For tonight, just get a good rest.”

I nodded gratefully, drank the milk, and snuggled into the soft blankets. Helen turned off the living room light, leaving only a small nightlight on. My body was extremely tired, but my mind was wide awake. I stared at the ceiling, listening to the sound of cars occasionally passing outside, my thoughts racing. Had Julian and his family gotten home? What would they think when they saw my note? Was Leo crying? Did they find the mac and cheese in the fridge? My phone was still off. I didn’t dare turn it on. I was afraid of seeing Julian’s questioning texts, and I was afraid I would soften.

After Arthur passed, Julian became my entire emotional support. Now, even he tears welled up again. I quietly wiped them away, not wanting Helen in the next room to hear. The pillow smelled of sunshine. Helen must have aired it out today. This small, considerate gesture made the feeling of being neglected at home even more acute. I don’t know when I finally fell asleep, but I dreamed of Arthur standing in the distance waving at me. I wanted to run to him, but a small hand held me back. It was Leo. He was crying. “Grandma, don’t go.” I was torn.

The morning sun shone through the curtains onto my face. I opened my eyes, momentarily disoriented until I saw the familiar furnishings of Helen’s home and remembered the events of last night. Helen was already up. The smell of frying eggs wafted from the kitchen. I sat up and noticed an extra blanket covering me. Helen must have added it during the night. “You’re awake,” Helen said, carrying breakfast out from the kitchen. “Fried eggs, oatmeal, and some pickles I made. Just something simple.” I thanked her and sat down at the small dining table. The breakfast was simple, but it reminded me of the days before I retired, eating with Helen in the company cafeteria. Life was busy then, but at least I had my own life.

“Now, can you tell me what happened?” Helen sat down across from me and asked softly. I stirred the oatmeal in my bowl and told her everything that had happened yesterday. Julian’s promotion celebration that I wasn’t invited to. Clara’s text telling me to eat the leftovers. Hearing about the demolition and moving plans from Carol. Helen’s brow furrowed deeper and deeper. “That’s just too much. Not telling you about something as big as the demolition. What I want to know most right now is what’s really going on with the old house,” I said, putting down my chopsticks. “Julian probably thought I didn’t care about these things, so he didn’t mention it.” “Well, that’s easy enough to find out. I’ll go with you to the old building to take a look. The notice must be posted on the community bulletin board.”

After breakfast, we took a bus to the old neighborhood where I used to live. Along the way, the scenery outside the window grew more and more familiar. The grocery store Arthur and I used to frequent, the kindergarten Julian attended, the park where our family used to walk on weekends. I hadn’t been back in three years. Not much had changed. It was just a bit older. Walking through the community gate, my heart began to beat faster. This was the sycamore tree Julian had crashed into while learning to ride his bike. That was the stone bench where Arthur loved to sit and cool off in the summer. A few old neighbors were gathered in front of the bulletin board. When they saw me, they greeted me with surprise. “Eleanor, long time no see.” After some small talk, I looked at the bulletin board. Sure enough, a conspicuous notice of intent for demolition was posted right in the middle. It clearly stated that our building was within the demolition scope and required homeowners to register with the community office within two weeks.

“Your Julian came by last week,” said Mr. Robert, who lived across the hall from me. “He brought a stack of documents and talked to the community office people for a long time.” A tightness grew in my chest. “What did he say?” “I’m not sure about the details. Seemed like he was asking about the compensation money.” Mr. Robert shook his head. “Your place is large. The compensation should be quite a lot.” Helen gently squeezed my hand. “Do you want to go ask at the community office?”

The community office was right in the center of the complex. The staff member, Sarah, was an enthusiastic young woman who had often helped Arthur with his pension matters. “Mrs. Eleanor,” Sarah stood up in surprise. “I haven’t seen you in so long.” I managed to smile and got straight to the point. “Sarah, I’d like to ask about the demolition of our building.” Sarah flipped through a registration book. “Building 3, unit 252. The homeowner is Arthur Chen. Your son was here last week. He submitted copies of the property deed and IDs. The preliminary compensation estimate is around $300,000.”

The number made my vision go dark. After Arthur passed, the house was naturally inherited by both Julian and me. Although I had been living there, his name was indeed on the deed. “So, what’s the status now?” I tried to remain calm. “It’s already in the assessment stage,” Sarah explained. “Once the assessment results are out and the agreement is signed, the compensation can be dispersed within three months.” She hesitated for a moment. “Your son said you weren’t in good health and that he was fully authorized to handle everything. Is there a problem?” “A huge problem,” I fought back my anger. “No, I just came to find out.”

Walking out of the community office, my legs felt weak. I had to lean against the wall to stand. Helen looked at me with concern. “Eleanor, are you okay?” “They’re handling the demolition behind my back,” my voice trembled. “$300,000 in compensation. What does Julian plan to do with it? Buy a townhouse for Clara?” “Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Helen advised. “Maybe Julian wanted to give you a surprise.” I gave a bitter laugh. “What kind of surprise needs to be kept from me?”

Standing in front of the old house I lived in for over twenty years, I took out my key. I had never removed this key from my key ring. I inserted it into the lock, turned it, and the door opened. A musty smell hit me. The furniture was all covered in white cloths, and a thin layer of dust had accumulated on the floor. Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the curtains, illuminating the floating dust particles in the air. My footsteps left clear prints on the wooden floor. Everything here was so familiar. The rocking chair Arthur loved, the porcelain vase I used for flower arrangements, the basketball scuff mark Julian left on the wall in middle school. Our wedding photo still hung above the bed in the master bedroom. A young Arthur, handsome and tall, with me leaning shyly on his shoulder. The photo had yellowed, but the happiness felt like it was just yesterday.

In the study, Julian’s awards and trophies from childhood were neatly arranged on the bookshelf. Arthur always said he wanted to keep these for his grandson to let him know how outstanding his father was. Julian’s college class schedule was still stuck to the kitchen refrigerator with a magnet I bought on a trip to Washington, D.C. There was a crack on the window sill by the sink from a cup Julian had thrown in a fit of teenage anger. Every corner held a memory and now all of it was about to be leveled by bulldozers. What hurt even more was that my own son planned to handle all of this behind my back.

“Eleanor, look at this,” Helen said, holding a stack of documents she had found in a drawer in the study. I took the documents. It was the demolition office’s assessment report and compensation plan. Julian’s signature was already on it. There was also a power of attorney form with a signature that sloppily imitated mine. I knew my own handwriting too well. This was definitely not my signature. “He forged my signature,” my voice was barely a whisper. Helen gasped. “This… this is illegal.”

I mechanically flipped through the documents when I suddenly found a note tucked into the last page. It was written by Julian and Clara. “Honey, once the demolition money comes through, don’t tell Mom at first. We’ll bring her over to live with us after we buy the townhouse so she doesn’t worry about the money. I’ve already designed the basement as her room. It’s close to the kitchen. Convenient for her to cook.” The basement. My room was in the basement.

The world started to spin. I collapsed into Arthur’s rocking chair. It let out a familiar creak. Once upon a time, Arthur sat here holding a young Julian and telling him stories. Later, Julian sat here studying for his exams. And later, after my husband passed, I sat here alone with my grief.

“Eleanor, what are you going to do?” Helen asked worriedly. I took a deep breath and suddenly made a decision. “I’m going to stay here for a few days. Helen looked around, but the utilities should still be on. I stood up and pulled the dust cover off the sofa. I need time to think and I need evidence.” Helen tried to dissuade me, but seeing the look on my face, she gave up. “Then at least let me help you clean up a bit.” We worked together quickly cleaning the dust from the living room and bedroom. Helen went to the corner store downstairs to buy some daily necessities and food. Meanwhile, I plugged in my phone to charge it and turned it on.

Dozens of unread messages and missed calls popped up, mostly from Julian with a few from Clara. The most recent one was from Julian, sent ten minutes ago. “Mom, where on earth are you? Leo cried all night. We’re all so worried about you.” I hesitated for a moment, then replied. “I’m at the old house. I want to be alone for a few days. Don’t worry.” The message had just been sent when the phone rang. It was Julian. “Mom, why did you go to the old house? No one’s lived there for so long. It’s not safe.” Julian’s voice was clearly frantic. “I’m coming to get you right now.” “No need,” I said calmly. “I want to stay here for a few days to remember my time with your father.” “But Leo keeps crying for his grandma,” Julian played his trump card.

My heart did soften for a second, but then I remembered the documents and the note, and it hardened again. “You two are his parents. It’s time you learn to take care of your child on your own. I’ll be back on the weekend.” I hung up and looked at Helen. “Can you do me a favor? I want to consult a lawyer.” Helen nodded. “My nephew is a lawyer. He specializes in real estate disputes. I’ll call him right now.”

That afternoon, Helen’s nephew, David, came to the old house. He was a young man in his early thirties wearing gold-rimmed glasses, and he spoke clearly and methodically. After listening to my story and reviewing the documents, David pushed up his glasses. “Mrs. Chen, first of all, forging a signature is illegal. This power of attorney is invalid. Secondly, this house was the joint property of you and your husband. After he passed away, both you and your son are legal heirs, each holding a certain percentage. Any disposal of the property requires the consent of both parties.”

“So, what should I do now?” I asked. “First, you should go to the community office and revoke that power of attorney, stating that you do not agree with the current arrangement,” David said. “Secondly, I suggest you have a serious talk with your son to understand his true intentions.”

After seeing David out, I sat on the newly made bed, watching the sunset through the window. The old house was quiet. Every evening, the sunlight would stream in just like this. Arthur always called it the golden hour. My phone rang again. This time it was Clara. “Mom, please don’t be angry. We didn’t mean to not invite you to dinner. We just thought you wouldn’t like that kind of occasion. Leo really misses you.” I didn’t reply. It wasn’t that I disliked the occasion. It was that I disliked being excluded. It wasn’t anger. It was heartbreak.

As night fell, the familiar sounds of the old house began to emerge. One by one, the occasional gurgle of the water pipes, the soft whistle of the wind. Through the windows, the faint sound of the neighbor’s television downstairs. These sounds which once formed the background of my daily life now sounded so dear. I decided to stay here for a few days to think carefully about the road ahead. Sixty-eight might not be too old. It might still be possible to start over.

When the morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, I momentarily thought Arthur was still beside me. I reached out to the other side of the bed only to touch a cold sheet. Only then did I fully wake up. Mornings in the old house were exceptionally quiet. There were no cries from Leo, no hurried footsteps from Julian, no sound of Clara blow-drying her hair. There was only the occasional bird song from outside the window and the sound of the old man downstairs clearing his throat. I got out of bed and opened the curtains. The May sunshine streamed in gently. On the balcony of the building opposite, a few neighbors were hanging out their laundry. Old Mr. Jiao from the third floor saw me and waved in surprise. I nodded back in acknowledgement.

In the kitchen, I boiled a pot of water and made a cup of jasmine tea. It was left over from three years ago, and the flavor had faded, but it would do. Holding the teacup, I stood on the balcony overlooking the neighborhood. In the central garden, a few elderly people were practicing tai chi while children chased each other—a picture of peace. My phone vibrated. It was a message from Helen. “Are you awake? Do you need me to bring you breakfast?” I replied that it wasn’t necessary, that I could manage on my own. After hanging up, I suddenly realized this was the first morning in three years where no one needed me to take care of them.

The breakfast stall at the neighborhood entrance was still there. The lady selling pancakes actually recognized me. “Mrs. Chen, long time no see. You look the same as ever.” I nodded, a warmth spreading through my chest. The smell of the pancakes reminded me of the days I used to buy breakfast for Julian. He would always grab the pancake in a hurry and run off to school with me, shouting after him, “Slow down. Don’t choke.” Back in the old house, I ate my pancake while reviewing yesterday’s documents. David was right. I should first revoke that forged power of attorney. But deep down, I still hoped to have a good talk with Julian. I didn’t want things to get ugly.

Just as I was thinking, the phone rang. The screen showed Julian. I took a deep breath before answering. “Mom, are you okay at the old house?” Julian’s voice sounded exhausted. I could faintly hear Leo crying in the background. “I’m fine,” I answered calmly. “What’s wrong with Leo?” “He’s been crying since last night. Won’t eat his breakfast. He just wants his grandma,” Julian sighed. “Clara’s going to be late for work and I… Mom, when are you coming back?” I gripped the phone tightly, trying to keep my voice from trembling. “I told you I’ll be back on the weekend. You two are his parents. You need to learn to handle these things.” “No, but—” “I interrupted him. I’ve taken care of Leo for three years since he was a baby. You can’t even manage for three days.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end. Then Julian’s voice suddenly turned cold. “Fine, have it your way. But Mom, the old building is going to be demolished soon. You shouldn’t stay there too long.” My heart sank. “How do you know about the demolition?” “I heard it from the neighbors.” Julian was clearly flustered. “Uh, I have a meeting to get to. I’ll hang up now.” The call ended. I stared at my phone, a tightness in my chest. He was still lying. I decided not to wait any longer. I would go to the community office today and revoke that power of attorney.

The community office had just opened. Sarah was organizing files. She was a little surprised to see me. “Mrs. Chen, you’re here again.” “Sarah, I want to revoke the previous power of attorney.” I said directly. “What?” Sarah was stunned. “But your son said you weren’t well.” “I’m perfectly fine.” I took out my ID from my bag. “The signature on that power of attorney was forged. I knew nothing about it.” Sarah’s face changed. “This is a very serious matter.” “I know,” I nodded. “That’s why I’m here to clarify the facts. My son and I are co-owners of the property. Any demolition agreement requires both our signatures.” “Correct,” Sarah quickly pulled out the documents. “Yes. According to the regulations. That’s correct. Mrs. Chen, would you like to discuss this with your son first?” “No need,” my voice was calm but exceptionally firm. “Please help me with the revocation procedure. Also, please notify me directly of any progress regarding the demolition.”

After completing the paperwork, I walked out of the community office. The sun on my face felt like a weight had been lifted. For the first time in three years, I had made a decision for myself. For the first time, I had clearly said no. Back at the old house, I started to sort through some personal belongings. There were still a few of Arthur’s clothes in the closet. I took them out and stroked them gently. They no longer carried his scent, but the warmth of his memory was still vivid. In the bedside table, there was a photo album filled with pictures of Julian from childhood to adulthood. I flipped through them one by one, tears blurring my vision.

In the afternoon, Helen came to see me, bringing hot muffins and some homemade pickles. “Did it go smoothly at the community office?” she asked while helping me pack. “I took care of it,” I nodded. “Sarah said they will issue a new notice requiring both parties to be present to sign.” “So, what are you going to do next?” I put down the photo album and sighed deeply. “I don’t know. David said I’m entitled to a portion of the demolition money. I could buy a small condo for myself.” “But what?” “But I don’t want to lose Julian and Leo,” tears finally broke through. “They’re my only family.” Helen hugged me, gently patting my back. “Silly woman. You’re Julian’s mother. That will never change. He might be influenced by Clara right now, but blood is thicker than water. One day, he’ll understand.”

As we were talking, the doorbell suddenly rang. Helen went to open the door, then let out a surprised cry. “Eleanor, come and see this.” I wiped my tears and walked to the door. The hallway was filled with large and small bags, baby formula, diapers, Leo’s favorite snacks, and a few boxes of health supplements. On top of

The knife fell onto the cutting board in a steady rhythm, slicing the crisp green cucumber into uniform, thin slices. The evening sun streamed in through the window, casting a warm golden glow on the countertop, and the soft thud of metal against wood seemed to echo louder than any voice in the house. I stood there, the chef’s knife steady in my hand, the blade flashing like a sliver of light as I cut, the scent of fresh vegetables filling the kitchen. The sound of the knife hitting the board was especially clear in the quiet kitchen, each thump a heartbeat against the silence that had settled over our home.

Then the front door swung open, and the sound of keys jingled, followed by clumsy steps and a burst of laughter that turned into a gasp as the family entered. Julian, Clara, and little Leo stumbled in, the odor of wine and the clink of glasses hanging in the air. Their eyes widened, and for a heartbeat they froze, stunned, as if the sight of me—knife in hand, slicing a salad—had broken a fragile spell. Clara’s face flushed, Julian’s tie hung loose, and Leo’s tiny fists clung to his mother’s skirts. I kept my eyes on the board, my movements deliberate, letting the rhythm of the knife be the only thing that spoke.

I am Eleanor, sixty‑eight, a mother whose hands have known the weight of a newborn’s head, the heat of a kitchen stove, and the ache of a grieving heart. Three years ago, when Arthur—my husband of forty‑two years—passed away, the world seemed to tilt. Julian, my son, then a young department manager at a midsize firm in the city, came to pick me up and said, “Mom, we don’t feel right with you living all alone. Come live with us. You can help look after Leo, too.” The phrase “help look after Leo, too” felt a little sharp, a hint that I was more of a caregiver than a family member, but my grandson needed me. That was enough. I packed a few clothes, my old suitcase, and left the house on Elm Street, the only home I’d ever known.

We moved into the modest two‑story home in a quiet suburb of a Midwestern city. The house was modest, but it was theirs, and I made it mine. I set up the kitchen, the living room, and the tiny alcove where Leo could scribble his drawings. Every morning, the smell of coffee and the hum of the refrigerator compressor were my lullabies. I cooked Julian’s favorite meatloaf, the way his father taught me, and I watched Leo’s eyes widen as I placed a spoonful of sweet peas on his plate. He would giggle, and I would smile, feeling the weight of my love settle like a warm blanket.

But the silence in the house was not always peaceful. It was filled with unspoken expectations. I was the one who remembered the grocery list, who knew where the extra diapers were hidden, who would slip a hand into Leo’s hair when he had a nightmare. I was invisible to them, a quiet fixture that they never truly saw. The evenings were punctuated by Julian’s late‑night phone calls, Clara’s quick trips to the mall, and Leo’s endless questions about dinosaurs and cars. I kept my thoughts to myself, polishing the kitchen counter until it gleamed, polishing my own sense of purpose until it felt thin.

When Julian announced his promotion at a staff meeting, the excitement in his voice was palpable. He came home, loosened his tie, and said, “I got promoted to department manager.” His eyes lit up, his voice an octave higher. I clapped my hands, a genuine smile spreading across my face. “Mom, we’ll have to celebrate,” he said, already reaching for his phone. I turned to the kitchen, ready to add a couple more dishes, but he stopped me. “No need, Mom. I’ve already booked a private room at The Oak Room. I’m treating my department colleagues to dinner.” His eyes flicked to Clara, who was already heading to the mall, and then to Leo, who was bouncing on his grandfather’s lap. “We’re taking Leo, too. My in‑laws are already waiting there.” My heart sank. I had been left out of the family celebration, and the invitation was not for me.

Julian’s words lingered in the air, heavy with the weight of a new hierarchy. He didn’t notice the hurt in my eyes, and I forced a smile. “I’ll just stay home and watch Leo,” I said, and he replied, “We’ll take him, too.” I felt the sting of exclusion, the subtle reminder that I was an accessory, not a participant. Later, when I opened the fridge, I found a note from Clara tucked between the leftover meatloaf and a bowl of rice: “Mom, remember to finish the leftovers in the fridge. Don’t let them go to waste.” I typed a simple “Okay.” My thumb hovered over the screen, and the message sent. I placed the phone face down on the dining table, the plastic case making a soft click against the glass.

The following days were a blur of routine. I wrapped the sliced cucumbers and tomatoes in plastic wrap, put them back in the refrigerator, and watched the microwave beep as the leftover meatloaf heated. The clock ticked past 7:30, and the room was dark outside. I sat on the couch, the television flickering with a local news anchor’s bright red lips, but I heard nothing. My fingers, as if with a mind of their own, unlocked my phone and opened the photo album. Scrolling through pictures of Julian’s first day of kindergarten, his high school graduation, the day his college acceptance letter arrived, the New Year’s family portrait taken at the studio near our building. In that portrait, I was a part of the family, flanked by my son and his new wife, Leo nestled between us. Now, I was a spectator, a footnote.

While I was lost in memories, a burst of laughter from the sitcom on the TV jolted me back to reality. I turned off the TV, the room instantly silent, save for the occasional hum of the refrigerator’s compressor. I walked to Julian’s bedroom, a room now shared with Clara, and pushed the door open gently. A huge wedding photo hung above the bed—Clara in a pure white gown, Julian in a black suit, both smiling radiantly. I remembered the dress, custom‑made, costing nearly $3,000, half of Arthur’s annual pension. The vanity was a sea of bottles and jars, the expensive skincare products Julian had given Clara for her last birthday. Next to it, an exquisite jewelry box filled with gold pieces, most of which Arthur and I had given them over the years. In the most prominent spot, a diamond necklace Julian had bought for their fifth wedding anniversary. I closed the door softly, my heart heavy with the weight of their new life.

I turned to Leo’s room, a riot of color, cartoon stickers, and toys piled in the corner. I picked up the teddy bear I had sewn for him when he was born, a little worn now but still his favorite. I whispered, “At least Leo still needs me,” and placed the bear back. Back in the living room, I took down the family photo albums, the most recent one dust‑laden on the bookshelf. The first page showed a black‑and‑white photo of Julian at one month old, swaddled tightly. My own young face beamed with the joy of new motherhood. Flipping through, I saw Julian’s first day of kindergarten, clutching my shirt, refusing to let go; his elementary school graduation, a red corsage pinned to his lapel; a middle school math competition, his shy smile on the awards podium; the day his college acceptance letter arrived, firecrackers set off in the yard. Every picture documented the little things and the big things I had done for my son. To get him into a good school district, Arthur and I scrimped and saved to buy that house. To pay for his tutoring, I didn’t buy any new clothes for three straight years. The year he took the SATs, I woke at 4 a.m. to make him soup to keep his strength up.

My phone rang, jolting me out of my reverie. The screen showed Carol, an old neighbor and one of the few friends I still kept in touch with. “Eleanor, have you eaten?” Carol’s loud voice crackled through the receiver. “Yes, I’ve eaten,” I lied, trying to keep my voice normal. “I just finished.” She paused. “Oh, by the way, I heard your Julian got a promotion. Clara ran into me in the neighborhood today. She was so happy. Said they’ll finally be able to get a bigger house now.” My fingers tightened on the edge of the photo album. “A bigger house?” “Yeah. Clara said they’ve got their eye on that new development on the east side. Those townhouses called Willow Creek Estates.” Her voice was filled with envy. “Your Julian is so successful.” A sharp pain shot through my stomach. I took a deep breath, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “Just a few days ago, the community posted demolition notices. The compensation plan looks pretty good, too.” I was stunned. Since when? I stammered, “I’ll have to check.” Carol’s tone turned puzzled. “What? Julian didn’t tell you.” My mind raced. Had he hidden the biggest news from me?

After a few more pleasantries, I hung up, my hands trembling uncontrollably. Demolition, a new house. These were huge things, and I, his mother, was hearing about them from a neighbor. I walked out onto the balcony. The early summer night breeze was cool, the city’s neon lights flickering in the distance. In the silence, I could hear the faint clink of glasses from the Oak Room, the celebration of Julian’s promotion. Were Clara’s parents bragging about their businessman son‑in‑law again? Were Julian’s sister introducing Clara to her wealthy friends? And me, I was only fit to eat leftovers at home. I turned back inside, opened the album again, and stopped on the night of Julian’s college graduation. In the photo, he wore a cap and gown, his arms around Arthur’s and my shoulders, all of us smiling under the Sunday sun. My finger traced his young face, and a tear fell onto the album. I wiped it away, but more followed. I whispered to the smiling face of my husband, “Arthur, our son is all grown up. He doesn’t need me anymore.”

I closed the album and went to the bathroom to wash my face. The woman in the mirror had red, swollen eyes, and the wrinkles seemed deeper than last year. At sixty‑eight, I was an age when others were enjoying grandchildren, yet I felt more out of place than ever. Back in my bedroom, I opened the closet, and my eyes fell on a small suitcase in the corner—Arthur’s hospital suitcase, filled with his clothes and daily necessities. When he was discharged, the suitcase was empty, most of his things left at the hospital or thrown away. I pulled it out, dusted it off, and opened it. A faint smell of disinfectant lingered inside. “Just for a few days,” I told myself, and began packing a few changes of clothes and some toiletries. I would stay with Helen, a former colleague, for a few days to clear my head. Helen lived alone in an old apartment complex on the north side of the city. We talked on the phone occasionally, and she always told me to come and stay with her for a few days when I had the time.

After packing, I sat on the edge of the bed and wrote a note. “I’m going to stay at Helen’s for a few days. Don’t worry about me. There’s some mac and cheese in the fridge. Leo likes it.” I stuck the note on the refrigerator and took one last look around the house I had lived in for three years. The living room I cleaned every day, the kitchen where I carefully prepared every meal, the small table where Leo scribbled his drawings. I had given so much yet felt like an invisible person. The moment I closed the door, I heard something inside me break.

As the elevator descended, I gripped the handle of the suitcase tightly, as if it were the only thing I could hold on to. I walked out of the building’s main entrance, the security guard, Mike, looked at my suitcase curiously. “Mrs. Eleanor heading out so late?” “Yes, going to stay with an old friend for a few days.” I managed a smile. “Take care now. Be safe.” Mike waved warmly. I nodded and dragged my suitcase towards the bus stop. The last bus had already left, so I hailed a taxi. “Where to?” The driver asked. I gave him Helen’s address and leaned back against the seat, closing my eyes. The car drove into the night, the distance from home growing farther and farther. My phone vibrated. It was a message from Clara. “Mom, where did you put Leo’s formula? We’re almost home.” I looked at the screen and didn’t reply. Let Julian find it himself. He should remember a little of how I took care of him when he was a child. The taxi stopped at a red light. Outside the window, a family of three was crossing the street—young parents holding their little girl’s hands between them. They said something and all three of them laughed. My vision blurred again. Once upon a time, Arthur and I held Julian’s hand just like that, thinking that such happiness would last forever.

When I arrived at Helen’s apartment, I hesitated. Was it appropriate to disturb her so late? Would she think I was strange? While I was hesitating, my phone rang again. This time it was Julian. “Mom, where did you go? Leo has been crying for his grandma.” I took a deep breath and replied, “I’m at Helen’s for a few days. You two take good care of Leo.” After sending the message, I turned off my phone. Tonight, just for once, I would be selfish. Dragging my suitcase upstairs, I stood in front of Helen’s door and rang the doorbell. In the few seconds I waited for the door to open, I realized this was the first decision I had made for myself in three years.

When Helen opened the door, her eyes widened like saucers. “Eleanor. My goodness. What is all this?” “Can I stay for a few days?” My voice was hoarse. Helen immediately pulled me inside and took my suitcase. “What happened? Is it Julian and his family?” “It’s nothing. I just wanted to get some fresh air.” I forced a smile, but the muscles on my face felt stiff. Helen’s apartment was small, a one‑bedroom, but it was neat and tidy. A photo of her and her late husband hung on the wall. A few green plants sat by the television. The air had a faint scent of sandalwood. “Have you eaten?” “I can heat up some soup for you,” Helen asked with concern. “No, thank you. I’ve already eaten.” I put down my bag and was suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion. My legs felt as heavy as lead. Helen, sensing my condition, didn’t press further. “Go take a hot shower first. I’ll make up the bed for you. The sofa pulls out into a bed. It’s very comfortable.”

As the hot water washed over my body, I realized I had been trembling the whole time. The steam fogged up the bathroom mirror, blurring my vision. For three years, this was the first time I had showered in a bathroom without Leo’s noisy interruptions, without rushing out to see if he had fallen or bumped into something. Wearing the clean pajamas Helen had prepared for me, I walked out of the bathroom to find she had already made the sofa‑bed, a glass of warm milk sat on the bedside table. “Drink some milk. It’ll help you sleep,” Helen said, patting my shoulder. “Whatever it is, we can talk about it tomorrow. For tonight, just get a good rest.” I nodded gratefully, drank the milk, and snuggled into the soft blankets. Helen turned off the living‑room light, leaving only a small nightlight on. My body was extremely tired, but my mind was wide awake. I stared at the ceiling, listening to the occasional sound of cars passing outside, thoughts racing. Had Julian and his family gotten home? What would they think when they saw my note? Was Leo crying? Did they find the mac and cheese in the fridge? My phone was still off. I didn’t dare turn it on. I was afraid of seeing Julian’s questioning texts, and I was afraid I would soften.

After Arthur passed, Julian became my entire emotional support. Now, even he tears welled up again. I quietly wiped them away, not wanting Helen in the next room to hear. The pillow smelled of sunshine; Helen must have aired it out today. This small, considerate gesture made the feeling of being neglected at home even more acute. I don’t know when I finally fell asleep, but I dreamed of Arthur standing in the distance waving at me. I wanted to run to him, but a small hand held me back. It was Leo. He was crying. “Grandma, don’t go.” I was torn. The morning sun shone through the curtains onto my face. I opened my eyes, momentarily disoriented until I saw the familiar furnishings of Helen’s home and remembered the events of last night. Helen was already up; the smell of frying eggs wafted from the kitchen. I sat up and noticed an extra blanket covering me; Helen must have added it during the night. “You’re awake,” Helen said, carrying breakfast out from the kitchen. “Fried eggs, oatmeal, and some pickles I made. Just something simple.” I thanked her and sat down at the small dining table. The breakfast was simple, but it reminded me of the days before I retired, eating with Helen in the company cafeteria. Life was busy then, but at least I had my own life. Now, can you tell me what happened? Helen sat down across from me and asked softly. I stirred the oatmeal in my bowl and told her everything that had happened yesterday—Julian’s promotion celebration that I wasn’t invited to, Clara’s text telling me to eat the leftovers, hearing about the demolition and moving plans from Carol. Helen’s brow furrowed deeper and deeper. “That’s just too much. Not telling you about something as big as the demolition. What I want to know most right now is what’s really going on with the old house,” I said, putting down my chopsticks. “Julian probably thought I didn’t care about these things, so he didn’t mention it.” “Well, that’s easy enough to find out. I’ll go with you to the old building to take a look. The notice must be posted on the community bulletin board.” After breakfast, we took a bus to the old neighborhood where I used to live. Along the way, the scenery outside the window grew more and more familiar. The grocery store Arthur and I used to frequent, the kindergarten Julian attended, the park where our family used to walk on weekends. I hadn’t been back in three years. Not much had changed; it was just a bit older. Walking through the community gate, my heart began to beat faster. This was the sycamore tree Julian had crashed into while learning to ride his bike. That was the stone bench where