.

The next morning, Cindy left early, saying she had an “interview” across town.

She wore her nicest blouse and even curled her hair, but something about the way she avoided my eyes made my stomach twist.

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| Source: Midjourney

As soon as her car disappeared down the road, I waited ten minutes.

Just to be sure.

Then I padded into the living room, barefoot, the old wooden floor cool beneath my feet.

I sat down in front of the dusty monitor on the side table.

It was hooked up to the garden cameras I’d installed two summers ago, back when I thought deer and raccoons were my biggest problems.

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I clicked through the days in fast-forward. Rabbits bouncing like rubber balls.

Wind shaking the rose bushes.

A squirrel doing acrobat tricks with a walnut.

Then—Jacob.

He stood by the flowerbed, watering the petunias. His back was to the camera, shirt wrinkled, hair a little messy.

He looked peaceful, like he belonged there.

Then Cindy walked into the frame.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

She smiled, said something I couldn’t hear.

Her hand reached out, landed gently on his arm.

I leaned closer.

Whatever she said next, it changed everything.

Jacob froze, then dropped the hose like it was a snake. Water sprayed wildly as he turned and rushed back into the house.

I paused the video, staring at the screen. My breath caught in my throat.

That wasn’t normal.

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That wasn’t small talk.

My fingers shook as I grabbed my phone.

I needed the truth. And I was done waiting.

That night, I waited for Cindy in the living room.

The lamp in the corner gave off a soft yellow glow that made the shadows stretch across the floor like long fingers.

I sat still, arms crossed, my back straight, my eyes cold and sharp. I wasn’t angry—I was something deeper.

I was done.

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| Source: Midjourney

Cindy came through the front door, humming a little tune. She kicked off her boots by the rug and froze when she saw me.

“Everything okay?” she asked slowly. “You look… intense.”

“Sit down,” I said, my voice low and flat.

She blinked, confused, but did as I said.

She perched on the edge of the couch, her hands folded tightly in her lap like a kid waiting to be scolded.

“Is this about Jacob?”

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| Source: Midjourney

I leaned forward. “I saw the footage.

You talked to him in the yard. Then he dropped the hose and ran inside like something bit him.”

She shrugged, too quick.

“So?

I asked if he needed help watering the flowers.”

“No,” I said, my voice sharper now.

“You said something to him. And I know it wasn’t about flowers. I called Jacob.

Then I called Rick.

And Mark. Want to guess what they told me?”

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| Source: Midjourney

Her face changed right then. Like glass cracking.

“They’re lying!” she yelled, jumping up.

“You can’t believe them!”

“I didn’t even tell you what they said yet,” I answered quietly.

Silence dropped between us like a heavy blanket.

“I’ll say it for you,” I continued.

“You told Jacob I compared him to my exes. You told him I was seeing other men. That I was impossible to please.”

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| Source: Midjourney

Cindy’s breath caught.

Her shoulders slumped, like air leaking from a balloon.

“Why?” I asked, my voice shaking now. “Why would you do that?

Why ruin every man I let into this house?”

Her eyes filled with tears. “Because they’d take you away.

If one of them stayed, you’d ask me to leave.

You’d stop needing me.”

I stared at her, my heart breaking and hardening at the same time. “I never said that.”

May 12, 2025

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“But you would’ve,” she whispered. “And I—I needed you.”

“You’re my sister,” I said, standing.

“But you stabbed me in the back.”

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| Source: Midjourney

She dropped to her knees, crying. “Please don’t make me leave.

We’re better together. You’ll see.”

I shook my head.

“No,” I said, cold as ice.

“We’re not.”

I asked Cindy to leave that night. There was no screaming, no name-calling. Just quiet.

She didn’t argue.

She didn’t cry.

She went to her room and started packing, folding her clothes like she had all the time in the world.

Her face was blank, empty, like a light had gone out. Her movements were slow, almost robotic, like she was too tired to feel anything anymore.

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| Source: Midjourney

I sat on the couch and listened to the sound of zippers and drawers opening and closing.

I didn’t cry. Not then.

My heart ached, sure, but the tears didn’t come.

Maybe I was just too numb.

The next morning, I picked up the phone and called Jacob. It rang until voicemail picked up. I hung up without saying anything.

I tried again later.

Then again.

Finally, late that night, he answered.

His voice was quiet. Careful.

I said sorry.

I explained everything. About the camera.

About Cindy.

About how I hadn’t seen it before. I begged a little. Okay, maybe more than a little.

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| Source: Midjourney

A week passed.

Then another.

Then one quiet Thursday evening, as the sun dipped low and the kitchen smelled like cinnamon tea, I heard a knock at the door.

Jacob stood there. No bags.

No boxes. Just him.

And two coffees.

“You sure it’s okay?” he asked gently, stepping inside.

“I am now,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around him tight.

This time, I believed it.

I believed we’d finally make it past a week.

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