Chapter 1

The day before my sister-in-law's wedding, I went to pay the HOA fees on the house my mother left me, only to find the locks had been changed.

The one who opened the door was Rosalie, still in her pajamas.

She smiled and held out a key to me.

"Stella, I'm going to live here after I get married. Evan said you already agreed."

I turned to look at my husband.

He was perfectly composed. "Rosalie just got married. She can't keep renting forever. You own more than one place anyway. What's the harm in letting her stay a couple of years?"

I didn't argue.

I just called a locksmith.

"Could you come out, please?"

"Someone changed the locks on my own house."

...

When the locksmith arrived, Rosalie was still standing inside the doorway in her pajamas.

When she saw the toolbox, the smile on her face froze for a second.

"Stella, are you really going to change the locks?"

"The wedding crew is coming here tomorrow morning to film the bridal procession, and I've already moved all my things in. If you change them now, what am I supposed to do?"

I looked at Evan.

"Why did she move in?"

Evan frowned.

"Didn't I already tell you? We're just lending her the place for two years."

"When did you tell me?"

"These past few days."

"Did I agree?"

He was clearly getting impatient.

"We're husband and wife. Does every little thing have to go through some formal process?"

Rosalie quickly grabbed his arm.

"Evan, that's enough."

She turned to me, her tone much softer now.

"Stella, I really wasn't trying to take your house."

"Bruce's family has already sent out the invitations, and all the relatives know we'll be living here after the wedding. If you suddenly make me move out now, how am I supposed to explain it tomorrow?"

She sounded so wronged.

As if the one really making things ugly was me.

I didn't argue with her. I just walked inside.

The living room had been completely changed.

The wooden cabinet my mother left was gone, the rattan chair by the window was gone too, and the family photo that used to hang on the wall had been replaced with a wedding portrait of Rosalie and her fiancé.

The photo was huge.

The two of them stood on a beach, with a line printed underneath: A new life begins here.

I stood there for a few seconds.

"Where are my things?"

Rosalie didn't get it.

"What?"

"The cabinet in the living room, the rattan chair, and the wooden box at the foot of the bed in the master bedroom."

Instinctively, she glanced at Evan.

Evan looked away.

"Those things were too old. I had someone clear them out."

"Cleared them out to where?"

"A storage unit."

"Which storage unit?"

He finally turned back.

"Stella, Rosalie's wedding is tomorrow. Do you really have to dig all this up right now?"

I didn't say anything.

Rosalie had already gone back to her room, and soon came out carrying a cardboard box.

"Stella, is this it?"

The box was stuffed with my mother's old scarves, old clothes, and a few photo albums.

The one on top was missing a corner.

I picked it up.

The missing part was exactly where the last photo of the three of us had been, taken before my father passed away.

Rosalie followed my gaze, and her face turned uneasy.

"The wedding crew needed to make a photo wall, and they were short one piece of cardboard."

"This one looked pretty old, so I cut off a little."

Evan said from the side, "She didn't even know what was in it."

I closed the album.

"Change the lock."

The locksmith had just crouched down when Evan planted himself in the doorway.

"Don't make a scene."

"After the wedding tomorrow, I'll go with you to get your things back."

I looked at him.

"Who gave her the key?"

"I did."

"And you approved the renovation too?"

He paused.

"Just some minor changes."

I looked down. At the bottom of the box was pressed a design drawing. The master bedroom had a new walk-in closet, and half the wall in the study had been torn out.

The spot where my mother's old books used to sit was marked as a children's room.

Beside it was a line of small print: Space reserved for a crib and children's storage.

I stared at that drawing for a few seconds.

Rosalie wasn't even getting married until tomorrow. She didn't even have a child yet.

Yet in this house, the one she only called "borrowing for two years," a place had already been set aside for her future child.