“Dad, I just want to go home”: How I was kicked out of my own flat over a room
A story so heartbreaking, it’s hard to read without tears. The betrayal of a daughter and the lifeline that came when hope was almost lost.
Victor Andrews stood on the balcony of his old council flat in Birmingham, nervously smoking. His hands shook, his heart pounded as if trying to break free. Who would’ve thought that at 72, he’d end up feeling like a burden? Not long ago, he’d had a home, a family, a beloved wife…
“Dad, what’s wrong now?” burst in Laura, his only daughter. “We’re just asking for your room. Jamie and Leo are growing up—they can’t keep sleeping on a fold-out bed. It’s not fair!”
“Laura, love…” Victor murmured softly. “Why should I spend my last years in a care home? If you need space, rent somewhere else or move in with your in-laws. This is my home too.”
“Thanks, Dad. That says it all,” Laura snapped, slamming the door behind her, leaving nothing but the scent of perfume and bitterness in the air.
Victor sank into his armchair, stroking his old dog, Patch, when suddenly, tears welled up. He hadn’t cried in years, but now—he couldn’t hold it back. Five years since he’d lost Nancy… They’d spent forty years side by side, and he never dreamed their Laura would turn on him like this.
They’d raised her with love, given her everything. And now she was ice-cold and calculating.
“Grandad, don’t you love me and Leo?” Eight-year-old Jamie ran in. “Mum says you’re being selfish! You won’t give us your room!”
“Jamie, who told you that?” Victor’s voice wavered.
He realised—his daughter had turned the kids against him. The old man sighed heavily and forced out the words:
“Fine. The room’s yours.”
Laura rushed in, eyes gleaming. “Dad, really? Thank you! I’ve already sorted it—you’ll go to a lovely care home, cosy, with proper care. We’ll even take Patch. Promise!”
Just two days later, Victor found himself in a grim, run-down care home on the outskirts of Coventry. Damp walls, peeling paint, and the dull stares of forgotten people. None of the “care” or “comfort” Laura had promised. Just a place to dump the unwanted.
“New here?” asked his bed neighbour, Valerie. “My nephew pushed me out after I signed the flat over to him. At least it’s not the streets, eh?”
They talked, reminiscing, missing the families who’d abandoned them. Slowly, Valerie became the only light in Victor’s life. They’d walk the bleak courtyard, holding hands like teenagers, pretending they were young again.
Laura never visited. Didn’t even answer his calls. All Victor wanted was to know—was Patch okay? Was he even alive?
One day, Victor bumped into an old neighbour, Stephen.
“Victor Andrews?! Laura said you’d moved to the countryside! Took Patch with you, didn’t she?”
“What? Where’s my dog?” Victor’s voice cracked.
“She dumped him. I took him in, found him a good home. That dog’s a gem. But Laura… She’s renting out your flat. Lives with her in-laws now. What’s wrong with her, Victor? How could she—?”
Victor covered his face and whispered, broken, “Son… I just want to go home.”
“You’re not alone. I’m a solicitor. We’ll sort this. Tell me—did you sign anything?”
“No. But she’s got connections…”
“Then pack up. We’ll fix this.”
Before leaving, Victor stopped by Valerie’s room.
“Val, don’t cry. I’ll come back for you. I promise.”
“Don’t be daft. What do you want with an old woman like me?”
“Stop that. I need you.”
When they got to the flat, the locks had been changed. Stephen got to work. Turns out, Laura had rented it out, hoping her dad would vanish forever. But her paperwork was dodgy. The court ruled in Victor’s favour.
“Thank you, son… But I’m scared. What else will she try?”
“Sell the flat. Give her a share. The rest—buy a cottage. Quiet. Safe. No one’ll bother you again.”
Months later, Victor and Patch moved into a little cottage with a garden. Soon after, Valerie joined them. They planted apple trees, got chickens, and spent evenings holding hands under the sunset.
Yes, life can be cruel. But kindness always finds a way—even in the darkest night.
