Six Years Later, When I Returned to the House My Parents Had Given, My Father Was Waiting for Me in the Yard, While My Daughter-in-Law Could Not Hide Her Sudden Pallor

That day, when my father looked toward me, the broom fell from his hand and fear appeared on his face—not the joy that should have followed the return of a child.

I sat motionless in the car for several more seconds. I looked at the house that I had bought for my parents six years earlier. The wide wooden balcony, the white walls, the yard stretching to the vineyard—everything was exactly as my father had dreamed of since his youth.

But my father was standing in the yard and sweeping the long gravel path.

It was a summer afternoon. His faded shirt clung to his back, his hands were trembling, while his shoulders, which in my childhood had been able to lift heavy sacks, now seemed as if they had collapsed inward. The broom branches scraped harshly against the stones. That sound pierced my heart.

On the balcony Elena was sitting together with her mother, Natalia. Both held expensive glasses in their hands. Natalia wore the gold chain around her neck that I had chosen for my mother several months earlier and paid for by transferring money to my father’s account.

At the time I thought I was buying medicines.

“Be careful, old man!” Natalia shouted at my father. “Do not get dust on my shoes.”

My father lowered his head.

I was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that the joints of my fingers hurt. For six years I had worked eighty hours a week. I lived in a cold rented room, skipped lunches, mended my old coat, and sent money every month.

I told everyone that it was temporary.

That my parents should have a peaceful old age.

I got out of the car.

My father heard my footsteps and raised his head.

“Why didn’t you warn me, Nika?” he asked quietly.

This question was heavier than a shout.

Elena quickly stood up.

“Weren’t you supposed to come next week?”

“I never said that I would come next week.”

The smile disappeared from her face. Natalia put the glass on the table and reached for the phone lying beside it. Then I noticed that my name was glowing on the screen.

The phone belonged to my father.

But Natalia was holding it.

I went up onto the balcony and looked at my father.

“Dad, give me your phone.”

Natalia pressed the device to her chest.

“He does not need it now.”

“I am not talking to you.”

My father opened his mouth, but could not produce a sound. Elena headed toward the door of the house.

“Let us go inside and talk calmly,” she said. “This is your parents’ family matter.”

“That is exactly why I want my father to answer me himself.”

My father slowly looked at me. In his eyes, for the first time, I saw not only exhaustion, but also a desperate plea.

Then he grabbed Elena by the wrist.

Elena flinched.

There was already a bunch of keys in her hand. My father took the keys from her, came to me, and placed them in my palm. The metal still retained the warmth of his hand.

“Start with the room next to the kitchen,” he told me.

“What is in there?”

My father did not answer.

Elena stepped forward.

“Nika, this is nonsense. Give the keys back.”

For the first time, my father did not retreat.

I turned the key in the lock. The room turned out to be a small pantry. A narrow bed stood by the wall, with two thin blankets lying on it. In the corner stood a bag of my mother’s medicines, while her folded dresses lay on a chair.

“You sleep here?” I asked.

My father nodded.

Upstairs was their large bedroom. I found the door locked from the outside.

At that moment my mother came out of the kitchen. She clasped her hands to her chest.

“My son… you came.”

I hugged my mother, but her body trembled as if even my embrace frightened her.

“Mom, who answered me from my father’s phone in recent months?”

She looked at Elena.

Elena immediately shouted:

“Mom, do not start now!”

My mother lowered her eyes.

And I understood that this was no longer only about the house. Someone had used my trust as a weapon for six years.

My father went to the wall, opened the lock of a second door, and put his hand inside. When he took out a small wooden box, Elena looked at him as if she had already read the sentence.

My father put the box on the table and reached for the lock…

When the lock opened, the only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock. My father’s fingers were trembling so much that the lid slipped twice.

“Where did you find this?” Elena asked.

“Where you would not find it,” my father answered.

Inside the box were receipts, bank statements, and a small recorder. My mother’s old handkerchief covered them.

“Dad, why didn’t you tell me until now?”

“I tried. Every time they took the phone away from me.”

My mother bit her lips.

“We did not answer your calls, Nika. Elena told us that you were tired and that the truth would anger you.”

Elena reached toward the box.

“There is nothing important there.”

I stood in her way.

“Then why are you afraid that I will open it?”

For the first time she lost her composure.

“Because you are destroying the family!”

My father picked up the recorder.

“No, my son. The family fell apart when they stopped letting the money you sent reach us.”

One file was marked on the recorder. Just then the sound of a car engine came from the yard.

Elena looked toward the window and her face changed.

“Dato has arrived,” she whispered.

My father put the recorder on the table.

“Now you will find out who this house really belonged to…”

The sound of the lock was still hanging in the air when a black car stopped in the yard. Dato got out quickly and slammed the door so hard that the window glass shook.

My older brother had spoken to me only by phone for six years. He always said that our parents were well, that the house was peaceful, and that there was nothing to worry about because of my money.

Now his gaze fell on the box.

“Nika, you should not be here,” he said.

“This is my parents’ house.”

“You bought it, but we take care of it.”

“You take care of them?” I looked toward the room. “Father sweeps the yard, Mother lives in a pantry, and you told me that they were doing perfectly.”

Dato looked at Elena.

“Did you open the box?”

“Not yet,” she answered.

Those two words were enough. For the first time, the truth came from them.

My father made me turn on the recorder. For several seconds there was only rustling. Then Dato’s voice sounded, clear and cold:

“Is Nika still sending money?”

Elena’s voice answered:

“Every month. He thinks we need it for medicines.”

“As long as he does not find out that the house is not in our name, everything will be fine.”

My mother covered her mouth with her hand.

My father’s voice sounded in the recording:

“Nika bought this house for us. You are guests here.”

Then Dato laughed.

“Guests? Father, you were drowning in debts before he started sending money. We decided how the house should be run.”

Something heavy fell in the recording. Then Elena said:

“Take away his phone. If he contacts them again, he will ruin everything.”

The recording ended.

Silence descended over the room.

Dato’s face turned white as ash.

“This was recorded illegally,” he said.

“Maybe,” I answered. “But you cannot erase these statements.”

I took the documents out of the box. For six years, money had been transferred every month from my account for my parents’ medical expenses. However, the recipient accounts belonged to Dato and Elena. They had created a separate account from which they paid for expensive clothes, jewelry, and trips.

But the last sheet turned out to be the most difficult.

It said that Elena had forged my parents’ signatures for the money she received from me and had even taken out a loan in my mother’s name.

“Mom, this is not your signature,” I told her.

“I never signed it,” she answered.

Dato came toward me.

“Be careful, Nika. If you take the family matter outside, you will leave your parents on the street. You do not live here, after all.”

“But the house is in my name.”

He smiled.

“The house is, but we transferred part of the land into our names.”

My father raised his head.

“You could not have transferred it. I did not sign the papers.”

At the bottom of the box I found another folder. Inside was an extract certified with a notary’s seal. The document shown by Dato was only a copy.

The genuine land record still remained in my name.

At that moment the phone rang. The number was unknown. I answered the call.

“Mr. Nika, I am Levan the notary,” a man said. “Your father wanted to come to me yesterday. He told me that if you returned home today, I should warn you of one thing: Dato was not acting alone.”

“With whom was he acting?”

For several seconds silence fell on the other side of the line.

“This house is only the beginning. There is a safe in the bank, and your brother has its key. It contains what they used against you…”