And tonight, the boat was finally, legally, entirely mine.
Two weeks later, the quiet peace of my debt-free life was shattered by the shrill ringtone of my phone. The caller ID flashed my sister’s name.
“Hey, Maya,” Tessa said. Her voice dripped with that manufactured, breathy sweetness she always deployed right before she asked for money, a favor, or a blood sacrifice.
“Hi, Tessa. What’s up?” I asked, putting her on speakerphone as I wiped down the granite kitchen counter I literally owned outright.
“So, Mom mentioned that you finally paid off your place,” Tessa said, not bothering to offer congratulations. “Honestly, Maya… it feels meant to be. Like the universe is finally giving me a sign.”
“Meant to be what?” I asked, my hand stilling on the sponge.
“My late wedding gift,” she announced.
I closed my eyes, a familiar, throbbing headache building behind my temples. Three months ago, Tessa’s fiancé, a wealth manager named Greg, had dumped her a month before their lavish wedding. According to Greg, he couldn’t handle her “financial irresponsibility.” According to Tessa, he was a narcissist intimidated by her light.
Since the breakup, Tessa had milked the tragedy dry. She had quit her part-time job as a “lifestyle consultant” because she was too “emotionally fragile” to work. She had moved back into our parents’ house, turning them into her personal servants, demanding breakfast in bed and expensive therapy retreats to heal her trauma.
“A wedding gift for a wedding that didn’t happen?” I clarified, trying to keep my voice neutral.
“Don’t be cruel, Maya,” Tessa snapped, the sweetness vanishing instantly. “You know how hard this has been for me. I’m suffocating at Mom and Dad’s house. It’s so depressing. I need a fresh start. And you… you’re single. You don’t even have a boyfriend. You don’t need a two-bedroom condo all to yourself. It’s greedy.”
“Greedy?” I repeated, the word tasting like ash in my mouth.
Leave a Comment