Two months. That’s how long I’d spent away, caring for my mother after her surgery. Two long, exhausting months filled with bland hospital food, restless naps in uncomfortable chairs, and an endless spiral of worry. The only thing that kept me going was the thought of finally being home—back to my own apartment, my own bed, and, of course, my husband, Michael.
I had barely stepped out of the shower and into the comfort of my own space when I heard the front door unlock. My first thought? Michael must have stepped out for a moment and forgotten something. My second thought? Wait, why hadn’t I heard his car pull up?
I peeked out into the hallway, still wrapped in a towel with my bathrobe hanging loosely. And then I saw her.
A young, attractive woman stood there, looking as though she owned the place. Her perfectly manicured fingers clutched a set of keys, and she looked at me, frozen, caught between confusion and annoyance.
“Who are YOU?” she asked sharply.
I blinked, trying to process what was happening. “Excuse me? Who am I? I live here! Who are YOU?”
She gave me a dubious look. “I’ve never seen you before.”
“Well, I was away for a couple of months,” I said, my voice growing firmer. “Who gave you a key to MY apartment?”
“Michael,” she said flatly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “He told me I could come by anytime.”
Michael. My husband.
A chill spread through my chest, quickly followed by a searing wave of anger.
“Oh, did he?” I replied, my voice unnervingly calm. “Because I—his WIFE—am back, and that’s definitely news to me.”
Her expression shifted, a fleeting look of uncertainty crossing her face. Then, as if she realized she had just made a monumental error, she took a step back. “Wait… he told me he was single.”
I crossed my arms, my gaze sharp. “Oh, did he now?”
She frowned even harder. “Well, I guess I should go.”
I wasn’t about to let this slide without getting answers. “No, wait,” I said, my tone firm. “Come with me.”
To her credit, she hesitated, but eventually followed me. I led her into the kitchen, where Michael sat at the counter, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing. He was happily eating a bowl of cereal, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
She glanced at him, then turned back to me. “Who’s that?”
Michael looked up mid-chew, a spoon of cereal frozen in midair. “Uh… what’s happening?”
I turned to face the woman. “That’s Michael. My husband.”
Her eyebrows shot up so high, I thought they might escape her face. “That’s not Michael.”
I blinked, confused. “What?”
Michael, still looking completely lost, set down his spoon. “I feel like I should be involved in this conversation, but I have no idea what’s going on.”
The woman whipped out her phone, frantically swiping through her dating app. After a few moments, she held up a picture.
It wasn’t Michael.
It was Nick.
Michael’s younger brother. The one who always seemed to find trouble. The one who borrowed money and never paid it back. The one who, apparently, had been using my husband’s name—and our apartment—to impress his dates.
Michael groaned, slapping his forehead. “Oh, for—now it all makes sense. Nick’s been weirdly obsessed with my schedule these past few months. He’d randomly text asking if I was home or had a work trip. I thought he was just being nosy.”
I turned back to the woman, who was still staring at Nick’s profile as if she’d discovered an ancient artifact. “Let me guess—he never let you come over when I was home?”
She shook her head, still stunned. “Yeah, he said his ‘roommate’ was always around.”
“Unbelievable,” I muttered under my breath.
Michael ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “I swear, I’m going to kill him.”
The woman—who, by now, deserved to have a name—let out a deep breath. “I can’t believe I fell for this. I knew something was off, but I ignored all the red flags.” She sighed, then stuck out her hand. “I’m Sonya, by the way.”
I shook her hand, still reeling from the situation. “Nice to meet you. You know, aside from the fact that you broke into my apartment.”
“Technically, I was invited,” she said with a weak laugh. Then, her eyes glinted with a sudden spark. “You know what? I want revenge.”
Michael grinned. “Oh, we can arrange that.”
Fifteen minutes later, Michael sent a text to Nick.
Michael: Hey, bro. We’re making lasagna tonight. You should come over.
Nick’s reply was immediate.
Nick: Oh hell yeah, be there in 20!
Sonya rubbed her hands together like a villain in a movie. “This is going to be fun.”
Twenty minutes later, Nick swaggered through the door like he owned the place, his usual cocky smirk plastered across his face.
“Smells amazing,” he said, before his eyes landed on Sonya.
And Sonya’s eyes landed on him.
“Hey, babe!” Nick said, scrambling for an explanation. “What a coincidence! You’re here!”
Sonya folded her arms and gave him a look that could cut glass. “Oh, it’s no coincidence, Nick.”
Nick’s smile faltered. “Uh, what do you mean?”
Michael leaned forward, his voice low and steady. “She means we all know what you’ve been up to, ‘Michael.’”
Nick went pale.
Sonya took a deep breath, then, with all the dramatic flair of a Hollywood star, picked up a glass of water and tossed it right in Nick’s face.
There was a collective gasp. Silence. Nick stood there, dripping.
Nick blinked, then sighed. “Okay. I deserved that.”
Michael nodded in agreement. “Yeah. You did.”
I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. “You’ve got about ten seconds to explain yourself before we lock you out for good.”
Nick wiped the water from his face and groaned. “Look, I didn’t think it was a big deal! I just—dating’s expensive, okay? I couldn’t bring her to my place, so I figured, what’s the harm? You guys were never home!”
Michael crossed his arms, his tone firm. “You’re paying our rent this month.”
Nick’s mouth dropped open. “What?!”
“And you’re giving Sonya back every gift you ever got her.”
Nick winced. “Even the AirPods?”
Sonya shot him a glare that could melt steel. “Especially the AirPods.”
Nick sighed dramatically. “Fine.”
As Nick sulked out of the apartment, Sonya turned to me with a grin. “That was fun.”
Michael chuckled. “Dinner’s still on if you want to stay.”
Sonya paused, then nodded. “You know what? Why not? Just promise me there are no more secret brothers hiding around here.”
I grinned. “Just a cat that likes to judge people.”
“Well, that’s fair.”
And that’s how I made a new friend, got revenge on my lying brother-in-law, and still managed to enjoy my first home-cooked meal in two months. If that’s not a successful day, I don’t know what is.