I Let Her Stay, She Changed My Locks

“Besides, you don’t even live here. We’re just giving the place a little life.”

“You’re single anyway. Who are you trying to impress by keeping everything so spotless? Then why don’t you get married and have kids yourself?”

“I’m staying in your apartment because I’m doing you a favor, so don’t stand there pretending to be generous when you’re actually being petty. Who exactly are you trying to fool?”

My cousin, Zoe Parker, stood there with her arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe of my apartment as she tossed those words at me.

Her dyed-blonde hair looked almost painfully bright beneath the hallway lights. Paired with the smug, entitled expression on her face, it was enough to make me wonder, for one brief second, whether I was the one hallucinating.

A month earlier, she held my hand and told me the college entrance exam was entering its final stretch. Her house was way too noisy. She wanted to borrow my apartment for three months so she could study in peace. She promised she would keep to herself and focus on her exams.

I looked at her face, so much like my aunt’s, and remembered my mother on her deathbed, holding my hand and asking me to look after my uncle and his family.

My heart softened, so I agreed.

I let her stay rent-free and did not even ask for a security deposit. I only made one thing very clear, I told her to take care of the place, and that no strangers were allowed.

Zoe said, “Don’t worry, Celine. It’ll just be me. I swear on my college entrance exam.”

I came by to pick up an important document today. However, I found out the fingerprint lock would not open.

I tried the passcode. It said it was the wrong one.

I pulled out my spare key and tried it next. It would not even go in. The lock cylinder had been replaced.

I knocked for half an hour until my knuckles turned red. Eventually, the door opened a crack from the inside.

A man came to open the door. He was shirtless, with a thick gold chain hanging around his neck. He wore an impatient, irritated expression.

“Who the hell are you? What are you doing knocking this early in the morning?”

I was startled for a moment.

I knew him.

It was my cousin, Alex Parker, Zoe’s elder brother. He was a good-for-nothing who spent most of his time getting into trouble.

What was he doing here?

Before I could say a word, Alex recognized me. His brows drew together. “Oh. It’s you, Celine. What are you doing here?”

I looked past his shoulder.

The German custom kitchen cabinets I had spent over ten thousand dollars on were now smeared with greasy fingerprints, their once-pristine doors so grimy they practically gleamed.

From the bathroom came the steady rush of running water. I glanced over and saw a clump of hair clogging the drain, with water spilling everywhere.

Apparently, they had not even bothered with the most basic upkeep.

The warm ivory walls I had painstakingly chosen were now plastered with bright, cartoon-covered BabyBus stickers.

My handmade Turkish wool rug was littered with sunflower seed shells and dog food.

My favorite armchair was buried beneath several greasy men’s shirts.

A brown toy poodle suddenly crawled out from underneath the sofa, barking furiously at me before running to the dining table. Then, It lifted its hind leg.

A warm stream of urine ran down the table leg.

I went completely still.

“What is this?” My voice came out cold.

Alex casually nudged the dog aside with his foot. “Why are you making such a big deal out of it? It’s just a damn table. We’ll wipe it down later.”

Then my aunt poked her head out of the kitchen, holding a spatula.

“Oh, Celine! You’re here!” she said cheerfully, “Have you eaten? I was just about to make lunch.”

A loud sizzle came from the kitchen. A wave of greasy smoke and spicy heat rolled out of the kitchen and I instinctively took two steps back.

A little girl, maybe three or four years old, came wobbling out of one of the bedrooms. She was holding a marker, and began drawing wavy lines across the wall of my living room.

“Sweetie, don’t draw on the walls.” Zoe called from the bedroom. She came out of the bedroom with a yawn. She was wearing my silk pajamas. I bought them for myself as a birthday present. They cost me more than three thousand dollars.

Now they were wrinkled, with a yellow stain smeared across the collar.

My uncle came out next, a cigarette dangling from his lips. When he saw me, he was stunned for a moment. Then, without a second thought, he crushed the cigarette directly into the ashtray sitting on my desk.

It was not an ashtray. I bought it to hold scented candles.

Behind him, Alex’s wife was crouched on the floor, wiping the dog’s paws.

Also, on the custom-made desk I had designed specifically for myself, sat an opened package of diapers and several cans of baby formula.

On the floor beside my bookshelf lay several out-of-print books my mother had left behind. Their pages were bent. One of them had even had half its cover torn off.

There were over five people, and a dog.

So this was what Zoe had meant by “just me.”

My eyes slowly traveled across the apartment before finally settling on her face.

For a moment, she looked uncomfortable as I stared. Then she lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. That was how we arrived at the beginning of this scene.

“You’re single anyway. Who are you trying to impress by keeping everything so clean?”

Her words pierced like a needle.

I looked at her, then at everyone crowding my apartment, at the home I barely recognized anymore. My chest felt strangely tight.

If I fought back with words, they would only come at me harder. If I tried to get physical, Alex was standing right there.

I took a deep breath and forced myself to stay calm. Arguing with them wouldn’t get me anywhere. What I needed was evidence.

So I said nothing. I simply pulled out my phone, let my finger glide casually across the screen, and tapped the record button.

The more brazen they became, the stronger my evidence would be.

“Are you finished?” I asked in a soft voice.

Zoe mistook my silence for surrender. Her voice grew louder.

“What? Not happy? Did I say something wrong?

“You’re almost thirty and you still don’t even have a boyfriend. What good is keeping an empty apartment?

“We’re living here as a family. We’re giving your place some life. You should be thanking us.”

Alex chimed in, “Exactly. What’s the point of a woman being so stubborn?”

“You should just get married already. Look at how petty you’re being. You’d think lending us an apartment was going to kill you.”

My aunt came out of the kitchen carrying a plate of something blackened beyond recognition. She set it on the dining table and joined in.

“Celine, Zoe’s right. We’re family. There’s no need to draw such clear lines between us.

“Your apartment was sitting empty anyway. We’re living here, and we’ll even clean it for you every day. Isn’t that better?”

Clean it?

I looked at the puddle of dog urine on the floor. Then the marker streaks across my wall. I had to admit, that was probably the funniest joke I had heard all year.

However, I did not argue. There was no point trying to reason with people like them.

Instead, I nodded slowly, putting on an expression as though I were too furious to even speak. Then I turned around and walked away.

“That’s it? You’re leaving?” Alex called after me mockingly. “Well, that was disappointing. I thought you were tougher than that.”

Zoe’s voice followed, dripping with smug triumph.

“By the way, Celine, we changed the locks for security reasons. If you’d like to come back and stay here, just let us know ahead of time.”

I did not turn around. I walked quickly into the elevator and pressed the button for the first floor.

The moment the doors closed, the expression on my face went cold.

I lowered my eyes to my phone. The recording was still running.

Three minutes and twenty seconds. Every single thing they had said, every ugly side of them, had been captured crystal clear.

Did they really think they could just take what was mine and get away with it?