She Finally Told Her Stepmom To ‘Get Out’ On Her 18th Birthday

The look of confusion on her face was immediate. “Pack my things?” she echoed, the joy of the moment fading into uncertainty. “Are you… Are you serious?”

“Yes,” I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “I want you to pack your things in the next hour. You’re leaving this house.”

Her laughter, light and disbelieving at first, died down as she saw the seriousness in my eyes. “But why, dear? I thought we were a family…” Her voice trailed off, a hint of despair creeping in.

I could feel my resolve wavering. The way her voice cracked, the pain in her eyes — it was more than I had anticipated. But I couldn’t back down. Not now. Not yet.

“It’s time,” I began, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. “I’ve been planning this since the day Dad died. You are going to another city.”

She sat down at the kitchen table, her hands shaking as she reached for something to steady herself, but her fingers grasped at nothing. Her breath hitched as she whispered, “I don’t understand. What did I do? Why are you sending me away?”

In a moment that felt more like a scene from a movie, I loaded her sparse belongings into the car and drove her to a new destination, all while she sat beside me in a silence that was heavy with confusion and sorrow.

The drive was a long and silent one, filled with unspoken questions and tension. I was the first to talk.

“You didn’t know that my father opened an account in my name when I was a child, where he saved money for my education. Since his death, I’ve also put all my money, from my part-time jobs and gifts, into this account. Now, there’s a large sum.”