Then I noticed something more troubling. Ava and Lily had huddled together, whispering and giggling. Ava even lifted her phone, clearly recording the moment, while Lily crouched slightly as if poised to launch. It became immediately clear—this was a setup. They were planning to push me into the pool. I cast a quick, questioning glance at Jessica, and to my dismay, she merely smirked instead of stepping in.
Taking a deep breath, I decided to play along. The moment they lunged, I stepped aside.
Splash! The girls tumbled into the pool with shocked expressions, momentarily flailing in the air before plunging into the water. A stunned silence fell over the gathering.
Then Jessica’s voice cut through the quiet: “How could you let them fall?!” Her angry scream filled the air as she stormed toward me, her face flushed with indignation, her eyes accusing me of a serious wrongdoing.
I blinked in disbelief. “Let them? They were trying to push me!” I countered. Yet, Jessica didn’t even check on her children; instead, she frantically grabbed her hair. “Their iPhones!” she exclaimed, her voice rising in panic. “Do you know how expensive they are?!”
I stared at her, utterly astonished. “Perhaps you should have watched your children instead of laughing,” I suggested.
At length, Mark finally looked up, noticing the soaked children, and sighed, “That really sucks.”
I handed towels to Ava and Lily, but Jessica continued to fume. “This is your fault, Olivia! You knew they were going to fall!” she accused.
I responded with a dry laugh, shaking my head. “Yes, and you knew they intended to push me. Should I have simply allowed it to happen?”
Jessica scoffed, her head shaking in disbelief. “Unbelievable.”
“No, you are, Jessica,” I retorted, my frustration rising.
I took a long sip of my drink to steady myself. The next morning, I awoke feeling groggy and still agitated by the previous night’s events. Searching for a lift in my mood, I picked up my phone, expecting a humorous meme or a belated birthday message, but instead discovered a text from Jessica.
The message contained a link. Out of curiosity, I clicked it and felt my stomach drop when an Apple Store page appeared, displaying two brand-new, top-of-the-line iPhones. My eyes widened as I glanced at the price. Soon after, a new message arrived:
Jessica: “Since you let them fall, you need to replace these. It’s your fault.”
I stared at the screen in disbelief. “You can’t be serious,” I replied.
Jessica then messaged, “You’re an adult. You should have let them push you. It’s not as if you would melt.”
I gave a humorless laugh. The audacity was astounding—she genuinely believed I was responsible for her children’s expensive phones simply because I didn’t let them push me into the pool. I was done with niceties.
I texted back, “Don’t you dare try to make me feel guilty.” When no reply came, I took it as a small victory and set my phone aside, believing the matter was resolved.
But I was mistaken.
The following afternoon, the doorbell rang. When I opened it, there stood Jessica holding balloons. For a moment, I wondered if she had come to apologize, but then I noticed Mark unloading decorations from the car trunk—reminding me that, weeks earlier, we had agreed I would host Ava’s birthday party at my home, by the pool.
Jessica’s smile was smug as she said, “Why do you look so confused? We’re here for the party!”
I felt my anger rising. Folding my arms, I replied, “Do you really believe you can demand money from me one day and then expect me to host your child’s party the next?”
With a dramatic sigh, Jessica said, “Well, yes. You still owe us for the phones, but that is a separate matter.”
I responded with a sharp laugh. “Separate? As if my home and my generosity are not intertwined with your expectations.” I gestured toward the street. “Please leave.”
Her confident expression faltered, replaced by frustration. She began to retort harshly, but upon noticing Ava by her side, she moderated her tone: “This is for my daughter! You’re punishing her for a harmless prank!”
I simply shrugged and replied, “No, you punished her. If you intended for me to be the villain, then so be it—I will play the part.” I then closed the door firmly in her face.
Outside, I could hear Jessica continuing her tirade in the driveway, her voice raised with indignation as she gesticulated dramatically, aware that the neighbors were watching. Mark stood by the car, ignoring the commotion, while Ava appeared confused, likely wondering why her birthday party was being disrupted.
Then I noticed movement across the street. Mrs. Thompson, our elderly neighbor, was walking toward us with determination, holding her phone. She smiled warmly, her eyes twinkling with amusement. Jessica paused mid-rant, her face turning pale as Mrs. Thompson held up her phone so that Jessica could see the screen. Jessica’s hands clenched into fists; she opened her mouth as if to argue, but no words came out.
Mrs. Thompson then knocked on my door. “Hello, Mrs. Thompson,” I greeted, raising an eyebrow.
With a warm smile, she said, “She won’t be bothering you about the phones any longer.”
I glanced at Jessica, who appeared to wish she could vanish. “Oh?” I said, smirking. “And why is that?”
Leaning in conspiratorially, Mrs. Thompson whispered, “I informed her that I have a delightful video of her children attempting to push me into the pool. And if she continues with this phone business, I would not hesitate to take it to the authorities.”
I burst into laughter, and Mrs. Thompson chuckled along. “Of course, we wouldn’t actually do that,” she added innocently. “But you should have seen her reaction.”
Jessica offered no further argument. Instead, she simply turned, took Ava’s hand, and stormed away. Mark quickly followed, hastily stowing the party decorations in the trunk before rushing to the car. Within moments, they departed, leaving behind only their embarrassment. For the first time, Jessica was rendered speechless.
I turned to Mrs. Thompson, shaking my head with a smile. “You might just be my favorite neighbor.”
She winked and replied, “I know, dear.”
The following morning, the family group chat was flooded with messages. My mother, always the peacemaker, attempted to smooth things over, while Mark sent a half-hearted apology that felt empty. Jessica, however, remained silent.
As I was finishing my morning coffee, a new message arrived:
Jessica: “Ava’s party was a disaster because of you. Hope you’re happy.”
I stared at the message for a moment before smiling and replying, “Oh, I am happy. Thanks for checking in.”