I didn’t plan it this way. I just… got tired. Tired of the groceries disappearing. Tired of the power bill doubling. Tired of watching him live like a guest who never leaves. So I opened a separate account. Every month, I quietly transferred $300 from his old checking—yes, the one I helped him open when he was 17. I told myself it was “symbolic rent.” Not enough to hurt him, just enough to remind him that adulthood has a price. Last week, he found out. He called me “sneaky,” said I’d betrayed his trust. He packed his things, swore he’d never ask for help again. Then two days later, he was back—because his friend’s couch “wasn’t comfortable.” Now the house is quiet. We eat in silence. He avoids me like a stranger. I feel guilty, but also strangely… free. Maybe this is what boundaries sound like. Do you think I crossed the line? Or finally drew one? #Family #Money #Parenting