From that day, the house was never quiet again. Marcus lounged on the couch all day pretending to job-hunt. Sandra strutted around like a queen. The kids banged on my door during meetings.
I was losing my mind.
Then one day, I came home and found my internet cable cut in half. With scissors.
I stormed downstairs. “Who did this?”
Sandra, painting her nails, looked up and smirked.
“Oh, that? Tommy must’ve been playing with scissors. Kids will be kids.”
“I have a deadline tomorrow!” I snapped.
“Then maybe lock your door,” she said coolly.
“Maybe you should teach your kid not to destroy other people’s things!”
Her fake smile disappeared.
“Don’t tell me how to raise my children!”
When I told my parents, I expected support. Instead, Dad sighed.
“It’s just a cable, Zoya. You can buy a new one.”
That’s when something inside me broke.
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