Last Tuesday I came home early from a site inspection.
The sky was gray and heavy, the kind of day that makes you want to turn on lamps even at noon.
Outside, everything looked normal. Maya’s bike was tipped on the lawn. Lily’s muddy gardening gloves were lined up on the porch rail like she was proud of them.
I unlocked the front door quietly, not wanting to interrupt homework time.
The house smelled like cinnamon and craft glue.
I took a few steps inside and heard Jenna’s voice from the kitchen.
But it wasn’t her cheerful voice.
It was low and sharp.
It stopped me cold.
“Girls, you’re not going to be staying here long,” she said.
I felt my stomach drop.
I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe.
“I’m not spending the last years of my twenties raising someone else’s kids,” she continued. “A different arrangement would be better for everyone. When the interview happens, you need to say you want to go. Do you understand?”
A small voice answered.
It was Maya.
Soft and shaky.
“But we want to stay with James,” she whispered. “He’s the best brother in the world.”
I pressed my hand against the wall to steady myself.
“You don’t get to decide that,” Jenna said, impatient now. “Go do your homework. And stop with the tears.”
I heard a quick set of footsteps.
Then the girls ran upstairs.
A bedroom door shut harder than necessary.
I stood in the hallway, heart pounding, feeling like the floor had tilted beneath me.
I wanted to storm into the kitchen.
I wanted to demand an explanation.
But something told me to wait.
To listen.
To be sure I hadn’t misheard.
Then her tone changed completely, bright and light like she’d flipped a switch.
I realized she was on the phone with someone.
The Part That Hurt the Most
“I’m losing my mind,” Jenna said, sounding almost amused. “I have to play perfect all day. It’s exhausting.”
A pause.
Then her voice sharpened again.
“He’s delaying the wedding because of them,” she said. “But if he makes this guardianship permanent, they’re legally his responsibility. Not mine.”
I felt my throat tighten.
“That’s why I need them out,” she continued. “We have another meeting coming up. I’m going to make sure they say they want to leave.”
Another pause.
Then she said something that made my blood run cold.
“The house and the money should be for us,” she said. “I just need him to put my name on everything. After that, I don’t care what happens. I’ll make living here miserable until he gives in.”
I backed toward the door as quietly as I could.
My hands were shaking.
I sat in my car and stared at the steering wheel like it might explain how I got here.
All those lunches.
All those bedtime songs.
All those sweet phrases.
They weren’t care.
They were strategy.
