“Guess he’d be happier if it were him instead of me.”
“Hey,” Derek said softly, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “You’re doing everything you can. He knows that, even if he doesn’t always show it.”
But before I could answer, the doorbell rang.
I glanced at the clock. “Who would come by this late?”
“Want me to check?” Derek asked. “No, it’s fine,” I said.
“I’ll get it.”
When I opened the door, the world seemed to stop for a second. Standing on the porch, half-smiling, was Caleb. He looked different: older, broader, the sharp edges of teenage rebellion softened into something more measured.
“Hey, sis,” he said, like six years hadn’t passed at all. For a few moments, I just stared at him, unsure if he was real. Then the words came out sharper than I meant.
“What are you doing here?”
“I heard about Dad,” he said. “Thought I’d come check on him.”
“Check on him? Since when do you care?”
He pretended not to hear that.
“Can I come in?”
He brushed past and stood in the hallway as if he’d never left. “If you think you’re staying here, you’re wrong,” I said. “Relax,” Caleb replied.
“I got a place nearby. I’m not planning to move back in.”
“Good,” I muttered. “Because this house doesn’t need any more chaos.”
He ignored that.
“Can I see Dad?”
I nodded, leading him down the hall. The moment Dad saw him, his tired face lit up like I hadn’t seen in months. “Caleb,” he breathed.
“You came.”
I stepped back, the lump in my throat hardening. They talked softly, Dad reaching for Caleb’s hand while I slipped from the room, feeling like I was thirteen again: invisible, forgotten, the daughter who stayed but never shone as bright as the son who always left. When I reached the kitchen, Derek was there, rinsing a mug.
“Who was at the door?”
“My brother.”
“After all these years? Let me guess — he smelled a will.”
“Don’t start.”
“Come on, Tara. You know how he is.
The moment he heard your dad’s sick, he probably saw dollar signs.”
“Maybe,” I said. Later that night, after Caleb left, I went to Dad’s room to tell him goodnight. “He’s changed,” Dad said with a smile.
“I’m so glad he came.”
“Me too.”
My eyes caught the empty spot on the nightstand. “Where’s your watch?”
Dad blinked. “It was right there this morning.”
I searched the table, the floor, the dresser — nothing.
The gold watch he’d worn since I was a kid was gone. The next day, when Caleb showed up again, I didn’t waste time. “Dad’s watch is missing.”
He frowned.
“Maybe he misplaced it.”
“It was there before you came in yesterday,” I said. “Then it wasn’t.”
“So what, you think I took it?”
I crossed my arms. “Would that really surprise anyone?”
He scoffed.
“You still see me as the same screw-up kid, huh? I’m not that guy anymore.”
“I don’t believe that,” I said. “People don’t just change overnight.”
“You’ve always hated me, Tara.
Always waiting for me to fail.”
“You disappeared! When Dad got sick, I was the one holding everything together! You have no idea how hard it’s been.”
“Then hire someone,” he snapped.
“Get a nurse or whatever.”
“Oh sure,” I laughed bitterly. “And who’s paying for that? The air?”
“I can pay,” he said quickly.
“I’ve got money now.”
“Right,” I said. “From what, magic beans?”
He just shook his head and walked out, slamming the door behind him. Weeks passed, and things only got stranger.
Dad began complaining that his things were vanishing, a few books from his collection, some jewelry, even part of his savings. Every time he mentioned it, my chest tightened. I didn’t need proof.
I already knew who to blame. But one morning, when I was heading out, I found a woman at the doorstep in a pale blue uniform, holding a clipboard. “Good morning,” she said politely.
“I’m Laura. Your brother hired me to take care of your father.”
“He what?”
“He said you could use some help.”
I hesitated, studying her calm, professional smile.I didn’t know what to say. So I simply stepped aside and let her in.
I didn’t waste time. That same morning, I drove straight to Caleb’s apartment. When he opened the door, I barely gave him a chance to speak.
“Dad’s things keep disappearing,” I said. Caleb leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “And of course, you think it’s me.”
“Who else would it be?” I shot back.
“You show up after six years, and suddenly things start going missing? You think I’m stupid?”
“You always need someone to blame, don’t you? Maybe look a little closer to home.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” he said.
“But if you’re so sure I’m the thief, call the police. Get it over with.”
“I just might,” I snapped and turned on my heel. But I didn’t.
I couldn’t bring myself to drag the family into something like that. Instead, a different idea took root in my mind, something that would finally prove who was lying. I drove to a tech store and bought two small security cameras.
I set them up: one in the living room, another in Dad’s room, hidden behind a photo frame. No one knew. Not Dad, not Derek, and definitely not Caleb.
Two days later, Dad mentioned more money missing from his safe. My hands shook as I opened my laptop that day. The footage was clear.
I pressed play. At first, all I saw was Dad dozing in bed. Then Caleb appeared.
He knelt beside the old safe, pulled out a stack of bills, and counted them. My heart sank — I was right. But then, after a few seconds, he sighed, placed every dollar back, locked the safe, and left.
He didn’t take a thing. “What the hell…” I whispered. I clicked forward in the footage, scanning through the next few hours.
Around midnight, another figure appeared. It was Derek. He moved quietly, glancing over his shoulder before crouching beside the safe.
His hands trembled as he opened it and slipped several bills into his pocket. Then he walked out as if nothing had happened. I sat there, staring at the screen, unable to breathe.
That evening, when Derek came home, I was waiting by the door. He smiled tiredly, hanging his coat, but froze when he saw my face. “I know it was you,” I said quietly.
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t,” I warned. “You’ve been stealing from my father.”
“So Caleb told you,” he said after a pause.
“What?” I blinked. “Why would Caleb—”
“He caught me once,” Derek said. “He promised he wouldn’t say anything if I stopped and told you myself.”
“He knew?
And you let me keep accusing him?”
“I was ashamed. I lost my job months ago. I didn’t know how to tell you.
I thought I could just… borrow some money until things got better.”
“Borrow?” I repeated. “You lied to me. You made me hate my brother when he was the only one protecting you.”
“Tara, please—”
“Don’t.
I can’t even look at you right now. Just go.”
He hesitated, then nodded slowly and walked out, closing the door behind him. When the silence settled, I grabbed my keys and drove without thinking.
By the time I reached Caleb’s apartment, my hands were shaking. He opened the door, and before he could say a word, I burst into tears. “I’m so sorry,” I said, choking on the words.
He stepped forward and pulled me into a hug, the kind that said more than words ever could. “Thank you for coming back, Caleb. And for trying to protect me.”
“You’re my sister,” he said quietly.
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