If you ever want to truly test your patience, try sitting through dinner with people who betrayed you — and pretend everything’s fine.Three weeks after my parents handed my sister the house I’d spent three years paying off, they texted me an invite: “Let’s reconnect. Family is family.”I almost ignored it. But curiosity — and maybe the faintest hope for an apology — made me go.When I arrived, Lily was already there, laughing with Mom over a glass of wine as if nothing had happened. Dad was carving roast chicken, the table perfectly set — the picture of harmony. But under that polished scene, the air felt poisoned.
“So,” my mom began between bites, “how’s work, Tessa? Still doing that… investment thing?”“Yes,” I said flatly. “Still paying off things I don’t live in.”he tension was immediate. Lily focused on her plate, silent.Halfway through dinner, Mom set down her fork. “We’ve been meaning to tell you something. We’ve decided to move into your cottage in Vermont. You’re hardly there anyway.”
Dad jumped in. “Your mother means it’s just sitting empty, Tess. We’re getting older. It would be a nice place to retire. You can stay when you visit.”I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “You gave away the house I paid for, and now you want my vacation home?”“Be reasonable,” Dad said. “Lily needs a place to raise her family. You’re single; you don’t even use the cottage.”Lily chimed in, feigning innocence. “You’re just being selfish, Tess. You don’t even like Vermont.”
I stared at her. “That’s my property. No, you’re not moving in.”My mother’s lips tightened. “Don’t talk to us that way.”“Then stop treating me like a wallet,” I shot back.Lily slammed her wine glass down. “You’re just jealous they love me more!” stood up, my voice calm and final. “Then maybe they should live with you.”I grabbed my coat and walked out, leaving their stunned faces behind.Two weeks later, I blocked them all — no calls, no messages, no guilt.
Until one night, my phone buzzed.
A security alert from Vermont.
Someone had just unlocked the front door.
