Then I decided to take a well-deserved weekend trip to visit my friend Jessica at her country house.
But when I came back Sunday evening, something felt wrong. There were too many cars in the driveway, lights on in every room, and toys scattered across the porch.
Inside was chaos.
Tommy and Emma were running through the living room, Marcus was carrying boxes upstairs, and Sandra stood in the middle, barking orders like she owned the place.
“What’s going on?” I asked, standing frozen with my weekend bag.
Everyone stared at me. My parents emerged from the kitchen, looking guilty.
Marcus finally said,
“Hey, sis. I lost my job, and we can’t pay the rent. So… we’re staying here for a while.”
I looked around at the boxes. “You moved in?”
“Just temporarily,” Marcus said.
“Until I find something new.”
Sandra smiled.
“We really appreciate having you stay with us. Of course, we’ll have to make some adjustments. Your room would be perfect for the kids — you can move to the small one at the end of the hall.”
“I’m not leaving my room,” I said firmly. “I work from home. I need my setup.”
Sandra’s smile dropped.
“The children’s needs should come first.”
“And I’m the one paying the mortgage and the bills,” I replied.
Her tone turned sharp.
“That doesn’t give you the right to be selfish. We’re family.”
“Family who never asked if I wanted guests,” I shot back.
Sandra crossed her arms.
“Fine. Keep your precious room. But don’t expect us to be grateful.”
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