A year after my mom passed away, I returned home to find my suitcases by the door and a stranger lounging in my living room wearing my late mother’s robe.
Her ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend smirked and told me it was time for me to leave, but she had no idea whose house she was really in.
I pushed open the front door, my suitcase rolling in behind me.
The house smelled like cheap perfume and something greasy.
That wasn’t right. My mom always kept the place clean, warm, and familiar.
Then, I saw two large suitcases, neatly stacked by the door. My suitcases. I froze. My pulse pounded in my ears.
Had someone broken in? No. The door wasn’t forced. The place looked lived in. That’s when I heard the TV.
I stepped into the living room and stopped cold.
A woman sat on the couch, legs crossed, a smirk on her face. She held a wine glass in one hand and the remote in the other, flipping through channels like she owned the place. But the worst part?
She was wearing my mother’s robe.
The woman turned to me, eyes scanning me up and down like I was a delivery she hadn’t ordered.
“Oh,” she said with a laugh. “You’re back earlier than I thought.”
“Who are you?” My voice came out sharper than I expected.
She stretched out on the couch, completely at ease. “I’m Vanessa. Rick’s fiancée.”
Rick. My mom’s ex. The man I’d let stay here out of respect for her last wish.
I clenched my jaw. “Where’s Rick?”
Vanessa sipped her wine, looking pleased with herself. “Oh, he’s out running errands. But he told me all about you.” She set her glass down on the coffee table — my mother’s coffee table. “Look, sweetie, Rick and I have been talking, and we really need this space to ourselves now. You understand, right?”
I stared at her. My brain refused to process her words. She needed this space?
“This is my house,” I said slowly.
Vanessa actually laughed. “Oh, honey. I know Rick was being nice letting you stay here, but come on. You’re a grown woman now. It’s time to move on.”