I never imagined my day would start like this. I’m Sandra, 57, a widow, living in a quiet neighborhood where the most excitement usually comes from a barking dog or the mailman dropping the wrong package.
My son, Derek, 28, and his wife, Lindsay, moved in with me last year. It was supposed to be temporary—just until they found a place of their own. But here we are, still under the same roof, and tension simmering like a pot about to boil over.
Derek is a good man—always has been. He works hard, takes care of his family, and tries to keep the peace. Lindsay… well, she’s different. We’ve never clicked. There’s always a friction between us, the kind that makes you walk on eggshells. I try to stay out of her way, sticking to my own routines, letting her do hers.
Derek left for a business trip two days ago, leaving me alone with Lindsay. I thought maybe peace would finally settle over the house, but I should have known better.
This morning, I was jolted awake by a loud thud outside. My heart skipped a beat. I threw on my robe and ran to the front door.
And there it was—my poor car, dented and battered, headlights shattered, one wing mirror lying on the driveway like a casualty from some silent war.
“What in the world?” I gasped, stepping closer. My hands trembled as I touched the crumpled metal. It had been perfectly fine when I checked it last night. Who could’ve done this?
I heard the front door creak behind me. I turned and saw Lindsay strolling out, coffee in hand, her face calm as if nothing had happened.
“Oh, good morning,” she said casually, like the car wasn’t a wreck in front of her.
“Morning? Look at my car, Lindsay! It’s wrecked!” I shouted, incredulous.
She glanced at it, then back at me. “Yeah, I noticed that.”
“You noticed? What do you mean, you noticed? Do you even know what happened?”
She shrugged, sipping her coffee like this was just another Tuesday. “I took it out last night. The brakes were acting up. Probably why it got banged up.”
“You took my car? Without asking me?” My blood pressure skyrocketed.
“Well, you weren’t using it. And I had somewhere to be,” she replied, totally unfazed.
“Somewhere to be? At that hour? Where could you possibly need to go in the middle of the night?”
“That’s none of your business,” she snapped, eyes narrowing. “And don’t start whining about money. I’m not paying for anything just because your old car’s falling apart.”
I tried to control myself. “Lindsay, you can’t just take someone’s car without permission! That’s not how it works!”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Stop acting like it’s a big deal. It’s just a car. And like I said, I’m not paying for it. It’s your problem, not mine.”
“My problem?” I repeated, my voice shaking with anger. “You damaged it! You need to fix it!”
She crossed her arms, defiant. “Not happening. I’m not spending my money on that junk.”
I wanted to scream, to yell until my throat hurt, but I remembered what Derek said before he left: “Don’t argue with her, Mom. It’s not worth it. I’ll handle things when I get back.”
I took a deep breath. “Lindsay, you need to understand that what you did was wrong. You can’t just—”
My phone rang before I could finish. Relief flooded me when I saw Derek’s name. Maybe he could make sense of this mess.
“Hello, Derek?” I said, trying to sound calm.
“Mom, what’s going on? Lindsay just texted me saying you’re giving her a hard time.”
“Derek, she took my car without asking and crashed it. Now she refuses to pay for repairs!” I blurted out, my frustration spilling over.
“Mom, calm down,” Derek said, voice tired. “I’ll take care of it when I get back. Just… don’t fight with her. Please.”
“But Derek—”
“I know, Mom. I know. Just let it go for now. I’ll deal with it.”
I sighed, feeling defeated but not fooled. Something was off. She was hiding something. And it wasn’t just about a car. I had to wait and see, find proof.
That evening, Lindsay said she was going to “meet a friend.” I didn’t believe her. As soon as she left, I grabbed my phone and called Derek again.
“Derek, something’s wrong,” I whispered. “Lindsay’s acting suspicious. I overheard her on the phone earlier. It didn’t sound good.”
“What do you mean, suspicious?” Derek asked, concern lacing his voice.
“I’m not sure, but she’s hiding something. Now she’s gone out, saying she’s meeting a friend. Derek, I don’t trust her.”
Derek sighed heavily. “Mom, I’ve had weird vibes from her too, but I didn’t want to think the worst. Do you think she’s…?”
I didn’t want to say it, but we both knew the thought: she was betraying him.
“I don’t know, Derek. But something’s off. We need to find out what.”
“Okay, don’t jump to conclusions yet,” he said, trying to stay rational. “Keep an eye out. I’ll be back tomorrow night. We’ll figure it out together.”
I spent the evening pacing, waiting for her return. When she finally came home, late, she looked startled to see me in the living room.
“You’re still up?” she asked, attempting casual.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I replied, keeping my eyes on her. “How was your evening?”
“Fine,” she said quickly, avoiding my gaze. “Just caught up with a friend.”
“Which friend?” I pressed.
She hesitated, and I knew she was lying. “Just… a friend from work,” she mumbled, rushing off to her room.
The next day, Derek called again, urgency in his voice. “Mom, I need you to do something. A friend from work told me something strange. A girl from a dating site was supposed to meet him last night, but she canceled, saying she got into an accident.”
My heart froze. “Derek… what are you saying?”
“The girl he described… it sounds like Lindsay. I didn’t know it was her, but I’m almost sure she’s been sneaking around behind my back.”
Everything clicked—late-night outings, secret calls, the car accident. It wasn’t an accident; it was part of a bigger betrayal.
“What do we do?” I whispered, my voice shaking.
“Mom, pack her things and bring them outside. When I get home tonight, she’s gone. I’m done with her lies.”
My heart ached for Derek, but I knew this was right. I started packing her belongings, thinking how fast life could spiral out of control.
When Lindsay walked in, eyes wide with shock, I stood firm.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Kicking you out. Your lies are over,” I said, folding my arms.
“You’ll pay for this!” she hissed. “I’ll call Derek!”
I didn’t flinch. The call ended, and she finally left. Relief and sadness washed over me. Derek came home later, and after a short, painful conversation, he decided to file for divorce. It wasn’t easy, but he knew it was the right choice. The betrayal was too deep. There was no turning back.