“Dad, I just want to go home”: How I Was Kicked Out of My Own Flat Over a Room
A story impossible to read without tears. The betrayal of a daughter, and salvation arriving when hope was nearly lost.
Victor Andrews stood on the balcony of his worn-out London flat, a cigarette trembling between his fingers. His heart pounded violently, as if trying to escape his chest. Who would have thought that at 72, he’d be cast aside like a burden? Not long ago, he’d had a home, a family, a wife he adored…
“Dad, not this again?” burst in Laura, his only daughter. “We’re just asking for your room. Greg and Jack are growing up—sleeping on a fold-out bed isn’t fair!”
“Laura…” Victor murmured weakly. “Why should I spend my last years in a home? If there’s no space, rent somewhere else, or move in with your in-laws. I’m not surplus here.”
“Thanks, Dad. That’s all I needed to hear.” The door slammed behind her, leaving just the faint sting of perfume and bitterness in the air.
Victor sank into his armchair, stroking his aging dog, Rex, when tears welled up without warning. He hadn’t cried in years—not since Nancy passed. Forty years together, side by side, and he’d never have believed their Laura—their kind, bright girl—could do this.
They’d given her everything—love, warmth, the best they could afford. And yet she’d grown cold. Calculating.
“Grandad, don’t you love me and Jack?” Eight-year-old Greg burst in. “Mum says you’re selfish! You won’t give us your room!”
“Who told you that, lad?” Victor’s voice cracked.
He understood now—his daughter had turned his grandsons against him. With a heavy sigh, he forced the words out:
“Fine. The room is yours.”
Laura rushed back in, beaming. “Dad, really? Thank you! I’ve already arranged a lovely care home—cosy, with medical staff. We won’t abandon Rex, I promise!”
Two days later, Victor found himself in a grim, peeling-walled facility on London’s outskirts. Damp air, hollow-eyed residents—nothing like the comfort Laura had described. Just a dumping ground for the forgotten.
“New, are you?” His neighbour, Ruth, rasped. “Family got tired of you too?”
“Yeah,” Victor nodded. “My daughter. Needed my room.”
“I never had kids. Left my flat to my nephew… and he packed me off here. Not the streets, at least.”
They talked—of better days, of people they’d lost. Ruth became the only light in Victor’s gloom. They walked the bleak courtyard together, holding hands like lovestruck teens.
Laura never visited. Never answered his calls. Victor just wanted to know—was Rex alive?
Then, one day, he ran into his old neighbour, Simon—wide-eyed in shock.
“Victor Andrews?! Laura said you’d moved to the countryside—taken Rex with you!”
“What?” Victor’s voice shook. “Where’s my dog?”
“Threw him out. I took him—found him a good home. The lad’s a treasure. But Laura… she’s renting out your flat, living with her in-laws. What happened, Victor? How could she—?”
Victor buried his face in his hands, whispering brokenly:
“Son… I just want to go home.”
“You’re not alone. I’m a solicitor. I’ll help. Did you sign anything?”
“No. But she’s got contacts… might’ve forged—”
“Pack your things. We’ll sort this.”
Before leaving, Victor gripped Ruth’s hand.
“Don’t cry, love. I’ll come back for you. Promise.”
“Why bother with an old woman?” she whispered.
“Don’t be daft. I need you.”
Returning with Simon, they found a new lock on the door. But the law was on Victor’s side—Laura’s paperwork was worthless. The flat was his again.
“Thank you, son… but I’m scared. What else will she try?”
“Sell the flat. Give her a share. Buy a cottage—somewhere quiet. No one will hurt you again.”
Months later, Victor and Rex moved into a little house with a garden. Soon, Ruth joined them. They planted roses, kept chickens, and spent evenings hand in hand.
Life could be cruel, yes. But kindness always found a way—even on the darkest nights.
