My name’s Evelyn—Evie to most—and after years of late shifts, saving every penny, and passing on vacations, my husband Nate and I finally bought our dream home. It was a beautiful spot by the water, framed by swaying palms and the soft sound of waves. It felt like the fresh start we’d worked so hard for. Quiet. Peaceful. Ours.
Then we met the neighbor.
Just three days after moving in, I was buried in unpacked boxes when I heard a knock at the door. Standing there was a woman with bleach-blonde hair, oversized sunglasses, and a bold presence.
“Hi! I’m Tammy from next door,” she said, already peeking past me into the house. “Just letting you know we’re having a barbecue on Saturday. We’ll be setting up in the backyard—like we always do.”
I blinked. “Our backyard?”
She chuckled. “Oh, sweetie. It’s a shared space. We’ve used it for years.”
I kept my voice friendly but firm. “Actually, we purchased the unit with full rights to the yard and dock. But we’d be happy to have you over—just give us a heads-up first.”
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