My Sister Moved In—Then Betrayed Me in My Own Home
When Cindy showed up at my door with two suitcases and a smile that didn’t match her intentions, I told myself it was temporary. “Just two weeks,” she promised, breezing in like she owned the place, joking about jet lag and “drama” as if it were endearing. We hadn’t been close growing up, and I hadn’t seen her in years—but I opened the door anyway. Family, right?
At first, it seemed harmless. My husband, Eric, didn’t protest, and I mistook his silence for support. But two weeks became a month, then two, and Cindy settled in completely. Late mornings, long showers, mugs everywhere… and always just enough charm to make calling her out awkward.
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