Stories

My Parents Demanded I Return My New Bed to Give Them Money for My Half-Sister’s Car

During a family dinner, Jason’s new mattress ignites a heated conflict. His mother demands that he return it to help fund his half-sister’s car. Tensions rise as Jason, who has felt neglected for years, stands his ground. When his grandparents intervene, shocking revelations come to light that forever change the family dynamics.

I’m Jason, and I’m 18. For years, I’ve been suffering from nagging back pain that keeps getting worse. So I decided to do something about it. I took a part-time job and saved every penny to buy myself a new bed and mattress.

Asking my parents for help was out of the question. They’ve always prioritized my younger half-sister Ashley and our foster siblings Natasha and Everett. For five years, I’ve felt invisible, but I’ve learned to cope with it.

But yesterday, my life changed forever.

We were having one of those rare family dinners with my grandparents. Just as we were about to dig into Grandma’s famous lasagna, my phone rang. The courier was there with my mattress.

‘Excuse me,’ I muttered, pushing back my chair.

‘What now?’ Mom was visibly annoyed by the interruption.

I ignored her and went outside to meet the delivery guy. Just seeing the mattress made my back feel better. I tipped the man, thanked him, and slid the thing into the hallway. When I returned to the dining room, the tension hit me like a wall.

Mom was standing there with her arms crossed, her face a mix of annoyance and something I couldn’t quite place.

‘What the hell, Jason? You know we’re all saving money for Ashley’s car. Return the mattress right now!’ Mom’s voice was sharp, cutting through the uncomfortable silence.

Ashley, sitting pretty at the table, chimed in with her usual whining: ‘Why does he get a mattress when I need a car?’

I took a deep breath. I’d been waiting for this moment: ‘Mom, I bought that with my own money. I’ve been saving for months. I need this bed for my back.’

Mom’s eyes narrowed.

‘That money should be used for something the whole family needs. Ashley’s car takes priority.’

I felt my frustration boiling over: ‘Priority for who? You and Ashley? I’ve worked hard to afford this. My back is killing me, and I need a decent bed.’

Ashley’s pout turned into a scowl: ‘You’re so selfish, Jason! I can’t believe you’re doing this right now!’

Before I could respond, Grandpa cleared his throat. The room fell silent. He had been quietly watching the whole exchange, and his face darkened by the second.

‘Michelle,’ he said, his voice calm and measured but with a sharpness that made everyone sit up. ‘We know parenting is tough, but what I’m seeing here goes beyond that. Jason worked hard and needs that bed. Plus, your behavior is unacceptable.’

The pain of betrayal was immense. My own parents had undermined me in front of everyone and made me look like a monster. It was as if they didn’t understand the pressure I was under, trying to juggle everything for Ashley and the foster kids.

Mom’s face turned bright red: ‘Dad, you don’t understand. We’ve been trying to save for Ashley’s car for months.’

Grandpa didn’t back down: ‘Michelle, we were actually planning to give you an apartment as a reward for everything you do. But after seeing how you treat Jason, we’ve reconsidered.’ He looked me in the eye and gave a short nod. ‘Instead, we’re giving the apartment to you, Jason.’

I was shocked and speechless.

‘Dad, you can’t be serious!’ Mom snapped. ‘He’s just a kid. He doesn’t need an apartment.’

Grandma, who had been silent until now, finally spoke: ‘He needs a place where he feels valued and not constantly overlooked. You’ve neglected Jason for far too long.’

I couldn’t believe it. For the first time, someone was standing up for me!

I glanced at Ashley, who was sulking at the table. She opened her mouth to say something but then thought better of it. Even she seemed to realize this was about more than just a car.

Grandpa handed me a set of keys. ‘Jason, this is your apartment. It’s fully furnished, and we’ve stocked the fridge. You’ve earned this, son. You worked hard and need a place where you can focus on your well-being.’

I took the keys, my hands trembling: ‘Thank you, Grandpa. Thank you, Grandma. I don’t know what to say.’

Grandma smiled warmly: ‘Just make the most of it, Jason. We believe in you.’

The next few hours were a blur. My parents tried to argue further, but it was pointless. Grandpa and Grandma stood firm in their decision. They helped me pack my things while Mom was still trying to process everything.

‘This is crazy!’ she finally shouted. ‘How are we supposed to explain this to Ashley?’

Grandpa’s voice was calm but firm: ‘Maybe you can start by explaining why you’ve neglected your own son for years.’

The words hung in the air, heavy and painful. Even Natasha and Everett, the foster kids, watched with wide eyes. They said nothing, but I could see the realization dawning on their faces.

The drive to my new apartment was surreal.

It wasn’t far, but it felt like a whole new world. The apartment was small but cozy, and compared to what I was used to, it felt like a palace. For the first time in years, I felt seen and appreciated.

News of what had happened spread quickly through the family. There were many calls and texts, shaming my parents for their neglect. The extended family couldn’t believe how I had been treated all those years.

These words hit me deeper than any family criticism. My own foster kids were afraid they would end up like Jason, neglected and invisible. A wave of guilt washed over me. Why hadn’t I seen it? The difference in treatment was so stark, so obvious, and yet I had been blind to it.

As I settled into my new apartment, my grandparents visited often, making sure I had everything I needed. It was strange but wonderful to have this new support.

Grandma often brought home-cooked meals and sat with me to talk about everything and nothing.

‘Jason, we’re so proud of you,’ she said one evening. ‘You’ve been through so much, but you’ve handled it with so much grace.’

I nodded, feeling a lump in my throat: ‘I couldn’t have done it without you and Grandpa. You’ve given me a chance to start over.’

And that was the truth. For the first time in a long time, I looked to the future with hope. I had my own space, my own life, and most importantly, I had people who believed in me.

Michelle’s Perspective: Hoping for Forgiveness
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How had everything gone so wrong? One moment we were having a family dinner, and the next, my parents were giving Jason an apartment.

The pain of betrayal was immense. My own parents undermined me in front of everyone and made me look like a monster. It was as if they didn’t understand the pressure I was under, trying to juggle everything for Ashley and the foster kids.

But the more days passed, the worse the reactions from the extended family became. They called, texted, and visited, all with the same message: How could you treat Jason that way?

I felt like the world was closing in on me. They didn’t understand how hard it was to keep everything together and keep everyone happy.

But maybe I didn’t understand it either. Maybe I was so busy keeping things afloat that I didn’t see the iceberg right in front of me.

The real blow came from Natasha and Everett. One night, I overheard them talking.

‘Do you think we’ll be treated like Jason when we’re older?’ Everett asked in a quiet, fearful voice.

Natasha shrugged, but her eyes were worried: ‘I hope not. It’s not fair how they’re treating him.’

Those words hit me deeper than any family criticism. My own foster kids were afraid they would end up like Jason, neglected and invisible. A wave of guilt washed over me. Why hadn’t I seen it? The difference in treatment was so stark, so obvious, and yet I had been blind to it.

I knew I had to make things right. The next day, I went to Jason’s new apartment, bringing a homemade cake as a peace offering.

He opened the door and looked at me warily.

‘Jason, can we talk?’ I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. ‘I brought cake.’

He stepped aside to let me in. The apartment was small but cozy, just as my parents had described. It felt like a punch to the gut to see how well he had already settled in.

‘I wanted to apologize,’ I began, setting the cake on the kitchen table. ‘I was so focused on everything else that I didn’t realize how much you were struggling.’

Jason crossed his arms and leaned against the wall: ‘Isn’t it a little late for that?’

‘I know,’ I said, my throat tightening. ‘But I want to make it right.’

He sighed and looked away: ‘I appreciate the effort, Mom, but I need time. I need space.’

Weeks turned into months, and my parents continued to visit Jason. Every time I saw them, they reminded me of my failure. They never rubbed it in, but their actions spoke volumes. They did what I should have been doing all along.

The more I saw how well Jason was doing, the more reflective I became. I started to realize the gravity of my mistakes and began to make small changes at first.

I spent more time with Natasha and Everett, and I pushed Ashley to get a part-time job to fund her car. Gradually, the dynamics in our home shifted, becoming more balanced.

I still visited Jason, bringing him little things to show that I was thinking of him. Sometimes he let me in, sometimes he didn’t. But I kept trying, kept hoping.

One day, as I was leaving his apartment, he said: ‘Thanks for the cake, Mom. It was good.’

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

As I drove home, I allowed myself to hope. Maybe one day he would forgive me. Maybe one day we could rebuild our relationship. Until then, all I could do was try to show him that I had changed and that I was there for him, no matter what.

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