After two grueling months caring for my mother, all I wanted was a shower, my bed, and my husband, Michael. I had barely dried off when the front door unlocked. I peeked out—and froze.
A pretty woman stood there with keys.
“Who are YOU?” she snapped.
“I live here. Who are YOU?” I shot back.
“Michael gave me a key,” she said. My husband. Rage simmered.
“I’m his WIFE.”
Her face crumbled. “He told me he was single.”
I dragged her to the kitchen where Michael, mid-bite of cereal, blinked in confusion. But when she showed me her dating app, it wasn’t Michael—it was Nick, his brother, who had been impersonating him.
Nick had used our apartment to impress dates while we were away.
Furious but inspired, we lured Nick over with the promise of lasagna. He swaggered in—and froze at the sight of Sonya. She doused him with a glass of water like a queen delivering justice.
We made Nick promise to pay our rent and return Sonya’s gifts—especially the AirPods.
Sonya stayed for dinner. We laughed, we ranted, and by the end of the night, I had a new friend—and one less freeloading brother-in-law to worry about.
