Saturday mornings were my little slice of heaven—a steaming cup of coffee, a good book, and the peaceful hum of nature all around me. It was my time to breathe, to exist without interruption. Nothing could ruin that. Or so I thought.
Then my phone buzzed.
I glanced at the screen, saw Ryan’s name, and smiled. No irritation, just warmth. “Hey, love,” I answered, stretching my legs. “Something urgent?”
His voice was smooth, familiar. “Not really. Just wanted to tell you something.”
There was a pause, a beat too long. And then—
“I already bought the ticket. I’ll be there tomorrow.”
I sat up straight. “Tomorrow?”
“Yeah. To move in. Like we talked about.” His voice was casual, like he had just mentioned picking up milk from the store.
I blinked at the trees in front of me. Tomorrow. We had talked about it, yes. But suddenly, it felt so real. Ryan, living in my house. His clothes in my closet. His presence in my space.
“You’re still sure about this, right?” he asked, sensing my silence.
I exhaled slowly, my heart steadying. “Ryan, I’ve thought this through. It’s big, but I want this. I want you here.”
There was a small breath of relief from his end. “Perfect,” he said. Then, after a pause, “Just one little thing…”
I frowned. “What thing?”
“It’s kinda loud here. I’ll explain later. See you tomorrow. Love you.”
“Wait, what do you—” But the line was dead.
I stared at my phone, something small twisting in my gut. I pushed the feeling away. It was probably nerves. I’d deal with it tomorrow.
Oh, how wrong I was.
The next morning, I stepped onto my front porch, stretching, inhaling the crisp air. Peaceful. Just the way I liked it.
Then I heard the commotion.
I turned my head just in time to see Ryan’s car pull into my driveway. And then, like a clown car at the circus, people began spilling out.
First, his parents. Then his sister, her husband, and their twin daughters, who tumbled onto my lawn like caffeinated rabbits. A lanky teenager emerged next, Ryan’s younger brother, Will, looking half-asleep. And the bags—oh, so many bags—suitcases, duffel bags, plastic tubs.
Ryan stood among the chaos, shifting uncomfortably, like a kid caught sneaking cookies before dinner.
I blinked. Maybe I was hallucinating. But no. His mother, Regina, was already peeking through my windows, nodding as if she was inspecting real estate.
His sister, Karen, dragged a suitcase toward my porch while her husband, Ron, hauled what looked like a portable crib.
And the twins? They were running in circles, shrieking with joy.
I found my voice. “Ryan,” I said, dangerously calm. “What the hell?”
He winced. “Uh. Remember the ‘little thing’ I mentioned?”
“This is not a little thing! This is an entire family reunion!”
Ryan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re always together. It’s a family rule. I didn’t have a choice.”
I inhaled sharply, forcing myself to stay calm. “Okay. How long?”
He hesitated. “Not long.” Then, softer, “Probably.”
Probably?
That word sent a shiver down my spine.
Karen had already claimed my office. My bookshelves were now filled with baby blankets and a diaper bag. The twins raced through the hallways, their little feet stomping like a stampede of wild horses.
And the kitchen? It was a war zone.
“I WANT PANCAKES!” one twin wailed at breakfast.
“You have to eat something, sweetie,” Karen said while buttering toast and holding a baby bottle at the same time.
Ryan’s mom stood at the stove, arguing with Karen over the best way to cook eggs. Meanwhile, Ron made the toaster smoke for the third time that week.
I stumbled into the kitchen, eyes heavy from lack of sleep. My only hope was coffee.
I reached for my espresso machine. Pressed the power button. Nothing. Checked the plug. Still nothing.
A slow dread crept up my spine. “Karen,” I said, voice eerily calm, “what happened to my coffee machine?”
“Oh! That was Ron.”
Of course, it was Ron.
“He pressed the wrong buttons, put in the wrong grounds, maybe poured something where he shouldn’t have. Anyway, it made a funny noise and then just… stopped.”
I blinked. “Ron broke my coffee machine?”
Karen shrugged. “I mean, it’s just a thing, right? Machines can be replaced.”
I clenched my fists, my vision blurring with sheer, blinding frustration. Without a word, I walked out onto the porch before I screamed or cried—possibly both.
And there, sitting in my chair, was Ryan’s father, Thomas.
A plate of half-eaten pie rested on his stomach, crumbs falling onto my wooden floor as he casually worked on a crossword puzzle.
My chair. My sanctuary. Now covered in pie crumbs and claimed like the rest of my house.
I was two seconds away from hurling my book at him when Ryan appeared. “Morning, love. How’d you sleep?”
“How did I—? Ryan, everything is horrible. My coffee machine is broken!”
“I know. I’ll get you a new one.”
“I don’t want a new one! I just wanted my peaceful life back.”
Ryan followed my gaze and finally noticed his father. “Dad, maybe let Lisa have her chair?”
Thomas grunted as he stood. As he did, the chair let out a loud crack. A splinter of wood tumbled onto the porch.
I closed my eyes. Ignorance is bliss. Ignorance is bliss.
I sat down, brushing off the crumbs. Finally, peace.
And then—CRACK.
The chair collapsed under me.
Ryan rushed forward. “Lisa! Are you okay?”
But I wasn’t listening. My book lay on the floor. My book—now covered in pink hearts and stick-figure princesses.
The twins had colored all over it.
That was it.
“OUT!” I bellowed.
The next day, Ryan gathered his family. His mother pursed her lips, Karen shook her head in disapproval, and the twins whined. But eventually, they packed up and left.
And yet, the silence didn’t feel comforting. It felt… wrong.
I stepped onto the porch and saw Ryan fixing my chair. He had patched it up, reinforced the legs. Then, he reached into his jacket and pulled out something.
A new book. My book. Pristine.
“Ryan…” I whispered, my throat tight.
He exhaled. “I know my family’s a lot. But I can fix what they mess up.”
My heart ached. “Wait.”
He looked up.
I swallowed. “Don’t go. It’s hard. But I love you. And your family is part of you.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “You sure? Because they will test you.”
I laughed. “I’ll adjust.”
Because love isn’t just passion. It’s choosing to stay through the chaos.
