It all started when my son Ryan brought home Lydia, a woman 20 years older than him, and announced she was moving in. At first, I didn’t say much, but I had a plan. By the time they realized their mistake, it was too late.
I’d always wanted Ryan to find love, especially after my husband Daniel passed away three years ago. Ryan, a free spirit with a history of avoiding responsibility, had changed after high school and started working steadily. At 30, he still lived with me, and I wanted him to find someone to share his life with.
One day, Ryan told me he’d met Lydia on a trip to Paris. She was an art curator, older and sophisticated, but I had no idea how much she’d change my life. When Ryan invited me to meet her, I imagined a young, vibrant woman, but Lydia was only five years younger than me.
Ryan soon told me that Lydia would move in with us. I was shocked, but I agreed, wanting to support my son. At first, everything seemed fine, but Lydia quickly began making changes to the house. She replaced my favorite armchair, redecorated, and took over the bathroom. Then, she suggested I move out so she could have the master bedroom for her office.
Frustrated, I signed the house over to Ryan, knowing Lydia and Ryan didn’t realize the financial responsibilities of owning it. When they got the bills, Lydia freaked out, demanding I take the house back. I did—but I also learned a painful lesson about Ryan’s priorities. While I still love him, I’ve realized it’s time to focus on myself.
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