My sister got the house. I got a chessboard.
At first, I thought it was my father’s last jab at me. A final insult, a cruel joke. But then, as I picked up one of the pieces, I heard something strange inside. A soft, rattling sound.
“Life is a chess game,” my father used to say, his voice thick with wisdom. “You don’t win by shouting. You win by seeing three moves ahead.”
I always rolled my eyes when he said that. But that day, after his funeral, I would have given anything to hear him say it one more time.
I stayed silent the day he died. Silent as the neighbors dropped off casseroles and sympathy cards. Silent as my half-sister, Lara, arrived, tan and smiling, wrapped in a coat probably worth more than the whole funeral.
“Gosh,” she said to my mother, sniffing the air, “it still smells like him in here.”
Of course, it did. His coat — the one he always wore — was still hanging by the door.
Lara wasn’t here to mourn. She was here to collect.
We sat side by side, waiting for the lawyer to read the will. When he unfolded the envelope, I could hear my heartbeat. I was holding my breath.
“For my daughter Lara, I leave the house and everything within it,” the lawyer said aloud. “The property cannot be sold while its current resident remains.”
Lara didn’t look at me. She just smiled, her eyes twinkling with satisfaction.
“And for my daughter Kate…”
I leaned forward, my fingers gripping the edge of the chair.
“I leave my chessboard and its pieces.”
Lara let out a soft snort, her head tilting toward me, a look of mocking amusement in her eyes.
“A house for me, and a hobby for you. Fitting, don’t you think?”
I didn’t say anything. I stood, picked up the chess set, and walked out. I could still hear her laughter echoing behind me. The wind whipped around me as I stepped outside, cutting through my coat like it had a purpose of its own.
By the time I realized where I was going, my feet had already taken me to the old park. The chess tables were still there, half-sunken in stone and moss, like forgotten relics of a time long passed.
I sat down. Opened the box. My fingers moved without thought. Bishop. Knight. Pawn. King.
“You’re really doing this?”
The voice sliced through the silence. I didn’t need to turn around. It was Lara. She appeared beside me and dropped into the seat like it had always been hers.
“Still clinging to Daddy’s toys?” she said with a smirk. “You really are predictable.”
She reached out and moved a pawn without asking. I responded, my fingers moving swiftly over the pieces.
We began playing.
“You know,” Lara said, her voice light, “he always thought this game taught character. But it’s just wood. Just symbols.”
She moved again, as if she were playing a different game entirely. “I got the house.”
I didn’t answer.
“You got a game,” she said, the words dripping with satisfaction.
Pawn. Knight. Bishop.
“You always thought this meant something,” she continued, her voice laced with mockery. “But in the end, it’s just wood.”
Then she made her final move. A snap of the wrist, like a snake striking its prey.
“Checkmate,” she declared, slamming the knight down with unnecessary flair.
Then, for the drama, or maybe just out of cruelty, she swept the board with her arm.
“No point in clinging to illusions,” she said, as the pieces scattered, some bouncing off the stone table, others tumbling into the grass. One piece landed near my foot. I picked it up, holding it in my hand. It felt heavier than I remembered.
Click.
What was that?
I gently shook it. Rattle. My breath caught in my throat.
There’s something inside!
I looked up, meeting Lara’s gaze. For a moment, I thought she knew what I had heard. But she just tilted her head, bored, and let her eyes drift past me as if I wasn’t even there.
“Come to dinner tonight,” she said, her tone casual. “Mom asked. Said we should honor him properly. As a family.”
I blinked.
“Did she really?”
“Of course,” she replied with a smile. “It’s what he would’ve wanted. We should all be… civil.”
She turned and walked away, her heels clicking against the path like a ticking clock.
Did she really mean it? Or was this just another of her schemes?
Knowing Lara, either answer could be true. She was always clever, and invitations could be just as dangerous as threats.
That dinner wasn’t just a meal. It was a move.
And I had no choice but to sit at the board.
A few hours later, Lara was already in the kitchen when I came downstairs. She was humming, stirring something in a pot, and plating food with the ease of someone who had done it a thousand times.
She even wore an apron — the one she used to call “tragically domestic.”
“Evening,” she said brightly, opening the oven. “Hope you’re hungry. I made rosemary chicken. And there’s a vegan option for Mom.”
I blinked. Our mother looked at Lara like she had been replaced overnight.
“You cooked?” she asked, her brows raised.
Lara laughed sweetly.
“It’s not that hard. I followed a recipe. Even cut fresh parsley for garnish.”
Fresh parsley. Of course.
I sat down in silence, staring at the impostor who wore my sister’s face.
Throughout the meal, Lara kept up the performance — passing dishes with both hands, topping off water glasses, smiling as if she hadn’t just mocked me in the park hours earlier.
She didn’t look at me. Not directly. Not until I stood and placed the closed chessboard on the hallway console. Just behind me. Just in view. Waiting.
That was my move.
A pawn offered. I wanted to see if she’d flinch. She didn’t. But her smile stretched a little too tight.
Our mother noticed.
“You’ve been very sweet today,” she said to Lara, her voice light but deliberate. “Unusually sweet.”
“I’m trying to be better. We’re family, right?”
“Some bonds are stronger than others,” our mother said, cutting into her food. “Especially when they’re tested. When people choose to stay, to support.”
Her eyes didn’t leave me as she said it. I forced a smile.
“Is that what this is? Support?”
“I just think,” she said, setting down her fork, “that your father… he finally saw who truly stood beside him. Who gave him peace.”
“Peace?” I asked, my voice tight. “You mean silence. Compliance. He didn’t want peace — he wanted loyalty.”
“And you think that was you?” Lara asked, her voice dripping with disbelief.
I looked at her. “I stayed. I bathed him. Fed him. Watched him fade.”
“And he left you a game,” Lara said, still smiling, her voice a little too sweet.
“Maybe that says more about him than me,” I said sharply.
Our, no, Lara’s mother leaned forward.
“He gave my daughter the house because she deserved it. She sacrificed more than you know. And maybe it’s time you stopped acting like the victim.”
“I’m not acting. You’re just not used to seeing me speak.”
There was a pause, heavy and sharp. Then Lara laughed, her voice filled with mock sweetness.
“Okay, let’s not ruin dinner. This is supposed to be nice.”
Her mother turned to me.
“You should start packing in the morning,” she said, her voice casual but firm. “Just so there are no… complications.”
I stared at them both. At the fake peace they were trying to pass off as family. I picked up my plate, silently brought it to the sink, and didn’t say a word.
I didn’t say thank you. I didn’t say anything.
I just turned, walked upstairs, and locked my door behind me.
I knew one thing for certain. Dinner wasn’t over.
The house seemed to hold its breath. I was waiting.
Suddenly, in the darkness, I heard the soft creak of floorboards. A quiet click of a drawer. The shuffle of velvet.
Lara was crouched over the chessboard. The pieces were scattered, some cracked open, others opened carefully. A paring knife lay beside her.
One of the rooks was cracked in half. She had a small velvet pouch in her hand, glinting with stolen pride.
“So,” I said calmly. “It wasn’t just wood after all.”
Lara spun around, startled, then narrowed her eyes.
“You knew.”
I didn’t answer. I stepped closer, watching her straighten, like a dancer on stage.
“I solved it,” she said. “He left the real gift inside the game. And I found it.”
“You broke it open like a thief,” I said, my voice cold.
“He gave you the board, but he gave me the meaning. And now I have it.”
“Do you?” I said, my voice quiet.
From the shadows behind us, her mother emerged.
“She figured it out,” she said simply. “And you didn’t.”
I looked at both of them — at the confidence in Lara’s eyes, the satisfaction twisting in her mouth. They were already reaching for the pieces.
Lara lifted the pouch and dropped a few of the stones onto her palm. Bright, glassy things.
“Check and mate,” she whispered.
I looked at her, my gaze steady.
“No. Zugzwang.”
“What?” she asked, her smile faltering.
“It’s a chess term,” I said. “It means every move you make now only makes things worse.”
Her mother frowned. “What are you talking about?”
I stepped closer, tapping one of the pieces Lara had cracked open.
“Glass,” I said. “Colored, smooth. From a sewing kit I had when I was fifteen.”
I looked straight at Lara. “You found what I let you find.”
Her face went pale. “The stones you found? They’re fakes. Glass. From an old bead kit I used to keep for sewing buttons.”
“I swapped them out the morning after the funeral,” I said, my voice steady.
Lara’s face went white. “You’re lying.”
I reached into my coat and pulled out a slim envelope.
“Here’s the deposit confirmation from the bank. The real pouch is already locked away. Under my name. Safe. Untouchable.”
Lara stepped back, the paper burning her with its weight. Her mother said nothing.
“And there’s something else,” I said, reaching into the lining of the chessboard case.
A folded piece of paper. Soft from time, but intact.
“My father’s real will,” I said, opening it. “The one he hid because he knew the official one would only start the game.”
I unfolded it and read aloud:
“To my daughters…
If you’re reading this, it means the game has played out.
Lara, I loved you fiercely. I gave you much. You had freedom, opportunity, and every chance to show who you are. To your mother — I gave all I could. I hope it brought peace.
Kate — you stayed. You carried the weight. I gave you little but left you the map. That was my last game. My test.
If you are honest, you may live together in peace. If not, everything belongs to Kate.
I gave you all the pieces of me. I needed to see who would protect the whole.”
I folded the letter. Silence hung in the air like fog. I looked at Lara, then her mother.
“Checkmate.”
