Letting my sister-in-law use our house for Christmas turned into a nightmare when we returned.

“I just need a place to breathe,” she said quietly. “Just for a week.”

Dave stood in the doorway listening, arms crossed.

“Could I stay at your house while you’re gone?” Mandy asked. “I swear I’ll be invisible. I’ll leave everything exactly how it was. Please.”

I hesitated. Our house isn’t fancy, but it’s ours. Our kids’ rooms. Their routines. Their sense of safety.

But she sounded broken. And she’s family.

So we said yes.

Before we left, I cleaned like a maniac. Fresh sheets in the guest room. Surfaces wiped down. A cleared shelf in the fridge labeled with her name. I even left a small note on the refrigerator:
Make yourself at home. Merry Christmas.

As we locked the door behind us, I told myself it would be fine.

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