I Refused to Be My Parents’ Doormat: How I Kicked Them Out After They ‘Gifted’ My Apartment to My Brother

“My apartment has been handed over to your brother. From now on, your father and I will be living with you!” — my mother ‘cheered’ me up.

Tatiana propped the pillow behind her back and held the phone to her ear, a smile playing on her lips. Outside her spacious three-room apartment, the sunset cast warm orange hues across the living room walls.

“Marin, I’m leaning towards Turkey,” Tatiana said, flipping through a glossy brochure. “Five-star hotel, all-inclusive.”

“Tanya, it’s been two years since your divorce,” Marina replied firmly. “You need something more exotic. Both of us do.”

Tatiana grinned, gazing at images of pristine white beaches.

“Turkey will be perfect. Sea, sun, buffet. What else does happiness need?”

“A man! A decent one, unlike your ex. Let’s pick Thailand. Their tours are incredible! And the people are fascinating,” Marina urged.

Tatiana got up from the couch and went to the window, glancing at her brand-new Volkswagen parked in the yard. Quiet residential area, her own apartment, a car, a stable job as a department head at a large company. Everything she had dreamed of.

“I’ll think about it,” she smiled. “Let’s meet at our café tomorrow and discuss options.”

After ending the call, Tatiana decided to make dinner. She turned on her favorite jazz playlist and opened the fridge. The evening promised to be pleasant and calm.

The phone rang just as Tatiana was finishing dinner. Looking at the screen, she frowned. “Mom” flashed on the display. Tatiana’s hand froze over the phone.

Their last conversation had been two weeks ago and ended quite tensely. Tatiana’s brother, Sergey, had once again found a “promising business” requiring investment.

“Tanya, just half a million,” her mother had said then quickly, as if afraid her daughter would hang up. “Sergey will pay it back, he promised.”

“Like the last three loans?” Tatiana barely contained her irritation at the time. “Mom, I’m not a bank. And I don’t want to fund his crazy ideas anymore.”

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Her mother had shouted for a long time, calling Tatiana spoiled, accusing her of not helping the family, saying her brother would be lost without her help. The conversation ended with loud yelling and a slammed phone.

The phone kept ringing. Tatiana muted it and set it aside. Five minutes later, the call came again. Then again. And again.

“What the hell,” Tatiana muttered, looking at the blinking screen.

That evening, her mother called ten times. Each missed call sent a sharp tension through Tatiana’s chest. But she didn’t give in.

At work the next morning, Tatiana found five more missed calls from her mother.

“Are you okay?” her deputy Olga asked, noticing the boss’s gloomy expression. “You look upset.”

“Family stuff,” Tatiana answered briefly, diving into work documents.

By the end of the week, the situation only worsened. Her mother called every day, several times. Not a single message — just calls that Tatiana stubbornly refused. On Sunday, her father joined in.

“Daughter, answer,” his voice sounded from the home phone’s answering machine. “Mom is worried. We need to talk.”

Tatiana deleted the message without listening.

“No way,” she said, turning the TV volume up. “Enough of these talks.”

She knew what would follow “talk.” More persuasion. More “help Sergey, you’re family.” More accusations of coldness and selfishness. And if she gave in now — the money would be as good as thrown away.

On Monday morning, Tatiana woke up to a call. Her father. She silenced it and went to get ready for work. The phone screen showed notifications: 27 missed calls over the weekend.

“They’re trying to wear me down,” Tatiana whispered, putting the phone in her bag. “Not going to happen.”

At work, a new project and quarterly plan discussions awaited her. The usual stable life she had built after the tough divorce. A life with no place for manipulation and empty promises.

In the evening, returning home, Tatiana first checked the answering machine. Five new messages — all from her parents.

“Tanya, pick up,” her father’s voice sounded tired. “It’s important.”

Tatiana shook her head and deleted all the messages. Not today. Maybe never.

Saturday morning started with a sharp knock at the door. Tatiana reluctantly opened her eyes and glanced at the clock — 7:30. She sluggishly got out of bed and put on her robe.

In the hallway, Tatiana mechanically approached the door and opened it without looking through the peephole. She immediately recognized the mistake.

“Tanechka!” exclaimed Valentina Sergeevna, Tatiana’s mother, pushing a huge bag into the hallway. “Finally! We thought you’d never open!”

Behind her entered her father, Nikolai Petrovich, carrying two suitcases and a backpack.

“Hi, daughter,” he nodded with a guilty smile.

Tatiana froze by the door, unable to utter a word. Meanwhile, Valentina Sergeevna had already taken off her outerwear and headed deeper into the apartment.

“Oh, what a living room you have!” her mother admired, looking around. “And what a sofa! Must be expensive?”

She ran her hand over the leather upholstery, then went to the kitchen.

“All the appliances are new! Dishwasher, oven… And look at that huge fridge! Dad and I never had anything like that.”

Valentina Sergeevna peeked into the bedroom.

“Look, Kolya, what a gorgeous bed! And a wardrobe with mirrors! Tanya, what is this room for?”

“Office,” Tatiana finally said. “Wait! What’s going on? Why are you here? And with your things?”

Her parents exchanged glances. Valentina Sergeevna returned to the living room and sat on the sofa, patting the space next to her, inviting Tatiana to join. Tatiana stayed standing.

“Mom, Dad, explain yourselves immediately,” Tatiana’s voice rang with tension.

Valentina Sergeevna sighed and straightened her shoulders.

“You see, here’s the thing… I gave the apartment to your brother. Now your dad and I will live with you!”

Tatiana blinked, unable to believe her ears.

“You… what?”

“Well, what’s wrong with that?” Valentina Sergeevna shrugged. “Sergey has a business; he needs his own space. And you have three rooms here! Why do you need so much space alone?”

“What business?” Tatiana raised her voice. “What, Mom? Selling fake Chinese phones? Or hopeless investments? Or another ‘innovative’ idea that will fail in a month?”

“Don’t you dare speak like that about your brother!” Valentina Sergeevna snapped. “He’s trying! He just needs family support!”

“I’ll ask again,” Tatiana crossed her arms. “What do you mean ‘gave the apartment to Sergey’?”

“Well, you know,” her father interrupted, sitting down next to his wife. “Remember Lucy from the third floor? She’s a realtor; she organized everything quickly.”

“You sold the apartment?” Tatiana clenched her fists until her nails dug into her palms.

“No, no,” Valentina Sergeevna hurried to explain. “We gifted it. It’s our son. Why sell? Now he’s the owner, and we’re moving in with you. You have plenty of space!”

Tatiana took a deep breath, trying to calm down.

“Do you seriously think you can just show up at my place and stay? Without warning? Without my consent?”

“Daughter, we’re family,” Nikolai Petrovich spread his hands. “Where else can we go?”

“To Sergey!” Tatiana exclaimed. “To the apartment you just gave him!”

“How don’t you understand,” sighed Valentina Sergeevna. “He needs personal space. For business. And for his personal life.”

“And I don’t?” Tatiana stepped closer, looking her mother straight in the eyes. “I’m supposed to drop everything and take you in?”

“Not take in, but accept your parents,” Valentina Sergeevna pursed her lips. “We’re not homeless. We’re your parents! And we have a right to your support!”

“Just like Sergey, right?” Tatiana smiled bitterly. “Everything for him, always. And now the apartment too.”

“He’s a man!” Valentina Sergeevna exclaimed. “He needs a foundation for life! You’re settled, you have everything!”

“Because I work!” Tatiana burst out. “Every day, for years! And Sergey?”

“He’s trying to find himself,” her father said quietly.

“At thirty-eight?” Tatiana laughed. “Dad, he’s not looking. He’s a parasite on you. And now you want to parasite on me.”

Valentina Sergeevna jumped up from the sofa.

“How dare you speak like that about us? Your own parents! After all we’ve done for you!”

“And what have you done for me?” Tatiana’s eyes narrowed. “I paid for college myself. Bought my own apartment. When I divorced, it was my friend who helped me, not you.”

“We raised you!” Valentina Sergeevna shouted.

“And you keep raising me, huh?” Tatiana shook her head. “No, Mom. No, Dad. You’re not staying here. Pack your things and leave.”

“Daughter,” her father began, but Tatiana interrupted him.

“Immediately. I’m not joking.”

“You’re kicking us out?” Valentina Sergeevna theatrically clutched her chest. “Your own mother? Father?”

“Yes,” Tatiana answered firmly. “I’m kicking you out. Like you kicked me out of your lives, choosing Sergey.”

“Tanyusha…” Nikolai Petrovich looked confused.

“Pack your things,” Tatiana pointed to the door. “You have a son. Let him take you in to his new apartment.”

Valentina Sergeevna pressed her lips into a thin line. Then slowly started gathering the scattered things.

“You’ll regret this,” she hissed, pulling on her coat. “Someday you’ll understand how wrong you were.”

“No, Mom,” Tatiana shook her head. “I won’t regret anymore. I’ve had enough.”

When the door closed behind her parents, Tatiana slowly sank onto the sofa. Her hands trembled slightly. She took out her phone and opened her contacts list.

“Mom,” “Dad,” “Sergey.”

One by one, she blocked all three numbers.

“I’ve had enough,” Tatiana repeated aloud, leaning back on the couch. “Never again.”

Outside, a new day was beginning. Her day. Without manipulation, without guilt, without endless demands. For the first time in a long while, Tatiana knew for sure: she had a long road ahead to herself, but she had already taken the first step.