Three weeks after my parents gave my sister the house I’d been paying the mortgage
A motion alert from my vacation home’s front porch jolted me from my afternoon calm. I opened the security app, expecting perhaps a stray animal or a delivery—but instead, I was greeted by an unexpected and unwelcome sight. My parents, along with Lily and Jake, stood at the door, suitcases in hand, as if they were ready to move in.
I felt a familiar tension coil in my chest. They had taken matters into their own hands, ignoring the boundaries I had repeatedly set. Frustrated, I activated the intercom feature.
“Can I help you?” I called out, my voice sharp but controlled, catching them off guard.
My father waved awkwardly, attempting to inject cheer into the situation. “Tessa, we thought we’d surprise you!”
I couldn’t hide my sarcasm. “Surprise me by breaking and entering? Interesting choice.”
My mother tried a different approach, her tone unnaturally sweet. “We didn’t want to bother you.”
“Well, you are bothering me,” I replied firmly. “I’ve made my stance clear. This isn’t okay. You need to leave.”
Lily interjected, frustration evident in her voice. “Why are you being so difficult? We’re family!”
I shook my head, the old bonds I once treasured feeling like distant ruins. “Family doesn’t treat each other like this. You’ve made your choices, and so have I.”
Even Jake, who had remained quiet, attempted to persuade me. “C’mon, Tessa, it’s just for a little while. We’ll take good care of the place.”
My decision was unwavering. “The answer is still no. Please leave before I have to take further action.”
I disconnected the feed, a mix of anger and sorrow coursing through me. Their audacity was staggering, but I knew standing my ground was essential.