When I found out that my sister and her family had moved into my house without my permission, I thought things couldn’t get any worse. But everything changed when I heard an unexpected knock on the door, which brought me the karma I think I deserved. My name is Fibi and I’ve been close to my sister my whole life. But after she got married, something changed. Everything that happened a few days ago will stay with me forever. I live in a small house with three bedrooms. It’s not luxury, but I’m proud that it’s my home. I’ve been working hard for ten years to pay off the mortgage. Sometimes I dream of living in a trendy city center like my friends have, but I always remind myself: this is my home. I don’t have neighbors who leave dirty dishes in the sink, or a landlord who orders me around. Just me and my space.
My sister Holly, 38, is married to Nicholas, her first love, and they have two children. We used to be inseparable, but after she got married, everything changed. I didn’t blame her for focusing on her new family. I understood that she was doing what she thought was right. We saw each other less often, but we always had a good relationship. Or so I thought. Holly and Nicholas had always been advocates of freedom and adventure. They often talked about how important it was to “live life to the fullest.” This irritated me during family dinners. Holly, holding a glass of wine, would say, “Life’s too short to work in an office! You have to travel, discover the world!” I would say, “Some of us prefer a stable job and the certainty of tomorrow.” Nicholas would say, “But memories, Fibi! You don’t get it!” Memories are great, but they don’t pay the bills.
I tried to explain to them how important it was to manage money wisely. Even with children, they often organized spontaneous trips or bought expensive equipment. Did they listen to me? Of course not. A few months ago, they sold their house, taking advantage of the real estate boom, and decided to spend the money on a trip around the world. I remember how it felt: “We did it, Fibi!” Holly told me on the phone. “We sold the house!” “What?” I could barely swallow my coffee. “Are you sure, Holly? What about the kids, school, work?” “We’ll teach the kids on the road, it’ll be a great experience!” she replied. “Work can always wait, now we have a chance to really live!” I tried to stop her: “Holly, are you sure you’ve thought this through? Traveling with kids is expensive, what if the money runs out?” “Don’t worry, Fibi!” she replied. “We have everything under control, everything planned.”
But of course, everything went wrong. At first, they posted photos from expensive hotels and restaurants, but after two months, the posts became less and less frequent. The last photo was taken in a tent camp in a meadow, with the caption: “Simple life – happy life.” And then there was silence.
One day I came home from a long day at work, ready to just kick off my shoes, pour a glass of wine, and watch a TV show. But when I opened the door, I felt something was wrong. I heard familiar voices from the living room, saw kids’ bags on the floor, and unfamiliar shoes in the hallway. I walked into the living room and couldn’t believe my eyes: there they were—Nicholas, Holly, and their kids. They were unpacking in my house. “Holly?” I blurted out. “What are you doing here?” “Oh, hi, Fibi!” Holly said with a smile. “Surprise! We’re back!” “You’re back?” I barely managed to get the words out. “In MY house?” Nicholas came up to me and smiled. “Yeah, we broke the trip,” he said. “Traveling with kids turned out to be harder than we thought!” Holly added, “Mom gave us your spare key. We thought you wouldn’t mind if we stayed with you for a few months while we got our bearings.” “A few months?” I exclaimed. “This is my home, Holly! My space! You should talk it over with me!” Nicholas leaned over to me and said, “Fibi, don’t make this complicated. We have no other choice.”
I ran to my bedroom and closed the door. I was on the verge of hysteria when I got a text from my old friend Alex: “Hi Fibi! I’m nearby, do you want to meet up?” It was exactly what I needed – his help and a bit of humor. I immediately wrote back: “Come over! I need your help!” When he arrived, I told him the whole situation and he came up with a rather unusual plan. Instead of acting decisively right away, he suggested we talk to them calmly, but with the implication that if they didn’t move out, I would be forced to take legal action.When we got back to the living room, I noticed that Nicholas and Holly were getting nervous. Alex started asking them questions about their right to live there, mentioned their “temporary registration,” and suggested that my actions might be legally justified. They soon began gathering their things, and after a few minutes of silence, admitted that they had made a mistake by not consulting me. “Okay, we’re leaving,” Nicholas said. “We’ll have to think about this.” I sighed with relief, and as they left the house, I looked at Alex with a smile: “You saved me, thank you.” “I guess that’s a bit of good old karma, right?” he said, smiling back. “No problem, I’m glad I could help.”