The Dream That Didn’t Last
Three days ago, I thought I had everything I’d ever wanted. After five years of marriage, my husband, Mark, and I finally bought our first home in Seattle.

It wasn’t large or luxurious, but to me, it was perfect — a cozy little house filled with light, the kind of place where I imagined morning coffee by the window and quiet evenings full of laughter and peace.

I had worked for years to make it happen. Every late-night shift, every penny saved, even selling the wedding ring my mother gave me — all of it went toward the down payment. I decorated every room with care, choosing curtains, bedding, and framed photos that reflected the simple joy of building a life together.

When we moved in, I thought, This is it. The beginning of our new chapter.

I didn’t realize that dream would last only three days.

The Unexpected Guests
It was a bright afternoon, and I was cleaning the kitchen when the doorbell rang. I wiped my hands on a towel, opened the door — and froze.

There they stood: Mark’s entire family. His mother, two younger sisters, his brother, and the brother’s wife — each holding bags, boxes, and suitcases as if moving in for good.

Before I could even speak, his mother smiled widely. “Oh, sweetheart! This house is perfect! Big enough for all of us to live together.”

Behind me, Mark appeared, grinning. “Mom! You’re here! I already called the technician so everyone can register their fingerprints on the door system. It’ll make things easier.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?” I asked quietly. “You let them register their fingerprints?”

He shrugged, confused by my tone. “Why not? This is my house too. They’re my family. It’ll be fun having everyone together.”

That single word echoed in my head like an insult.

The Promise He Forgot