indicated there was movement near my vacation home. I felt a knot form in my stomach. Had they seriously gone behind my back? My heart pounded in my chest as I clicked on the live feed.
Sure enough, there they were—my parents and Lily, unloading boxes from a moving van. I couldn’t believe the audacity. After all that had been said, they still thought they could walk over me. My hands shook with a mixture of anger and disbelief as I watched them casually move into my space, as if they owned the place.
I decided to leave work early and drive up to the cottage. The two-hour trip felt like a lifetime as I replayed the events of the past weeks in my mind. I tried to concoct various ways to confront them, but nothing seemed right. As the cottage came into view, I pulled over, took a deep breath, and steeled myself for the confrontation.
When I arrived, my mother was in the garden, planting flowers as if she had all the time in the world. My father and Lily were inside, rearranging furniture. I walked up the stone path, my footsteps crunching loudly against the gravel. My mother looked up, seemingly unfazed by my appearance. “Oh, Tessa, you’re here,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron.
I didn’t bother with pleasantries. “What are you doing here?” I demanded, my voice firm.
My father emerged from the house, a sheepish look crossing his face. “We thought we’d help tidy up a bit before moving in,” he said, as if this was a logical explanation.
“Tidy up? You’re moving in without my permission!” I shot back, incredulous.
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