My daughter and son-in-law suggested selling my house to buy an apartment in the capital. I agreed, but I set one condition: the apartment had to be in my name. I explained my reasoning clearly:

— I need a guarantee that I won’t end up homeless in my old age. After I’m gone, the apartment will be yours, and you can do whatever you want with it.

My daughter remained silent, but my son-in-law was furious. He yelled at me, calling me greedy and distrustful. Still, I stood my ground.

I never imagined that this conversation would change my life forever.

A Father’s Love

When my daughter was six years old, I lost my wife. It was the hardest day of my life. At her funeral, I made a promise to myself: I would dedicate the rest of my days to taking care of our daughter.

From that moment on, my entire life revolved around her. She grew up to be intelligent, kind, and obedient. She always tried to help me, cleaned the house, and worked hard in school. I was so proud of the young woman she was becoming.

Then, a young man entered her life. When my daughter introduced him to me, I was a bit apprehensive, but he quickly made a good impression. He was polite, calm, and seemed to truly care for her.

When they announced their wedding and said they wanted me to continue living with them, I was happy. I imagined we would have a harmonious life together as a family.

But after the wedding, everything changed.

The Distance

My son-in-law started acting differently. He became cold, often unpleasant, and sometimes even aggressive. I could tell he was trying to push me away, but for the sake of my daughter, I chose to ignore it.

Then came their proposal: selling my house to buy an apartment in the capital. Although hesitant, I agreed—on one condition. The apartment had to be in my name.

— It’s just a security measure for me. I want to ensure I won’t be left without a home in my old age — I explained.

My son-in-law exploded with anger. He accused me of not trusting them, of being selfish and greedy. My daughter, instead of defending me, remained silent. Two days later, they packed their things and moved to the city without even saying goodbye.

At the time, I thought it was just pride and that they would eventually come around. But as time passed, the silence between us became permanent.

The Forgotten Birthday

Months went by without a call, without a visit. Then, my birthday arrived. Sixty years old.

Deep down, I still had hope.

That morning, I cleaned the house, prepared my daughter’s favorite dishes, put on my best shirt, and sat down to wait. Every little noise outside made me turn my head in anticipation.

But the hours passed.

Night fell.

And my daughter never came.

When I finally accepted that she wasn’t coming, I put the food away, took off my shirt, and went to bed.

Tears rolled down my face. Maybe I had hurt her, but all I ever wanted was to do the right thing.

Since then, I keep wondering: is she still that angry with me? Or has she simply moved on with her life, where I no longer matter?