Chapter 2: Five Days of Lies
I placed Leo gently into his stroller beside me.
Then I pulled a dining chair into the middle of the living room.
Sat down.
Folded my hands.
"No one leaves."
My mother laughed.
"Oh, don't be dramatic."
"I'm not."
My sister rolled her eyes.
"God, you've always been intense."
I ignored her.
Instead, I asked one simple question.
"When I left five days ago... what exactly did both of you promise me?"
Mom answered immediately.
"We said we'd help."
"Help how?"
Silence.
"You don't remember?"
"We cooked."
I looked toward the kitchen.
"Once?"
She didn't answer.
"You watched Leo?"
"We were here."
"That wasn't my question."
Again...
Nothing.
I reached into my backpack.
Pulled out my laptop.
Opened the security camera app connected to every common room in the house.
Both women froze.
"I installed these months ago after the package theft."
My mother's smile disappeared.
I pressed play.
Monday.
Emily carried groceries.
My mother watched television.
Tuesday.
Emily vacuumed while holding Leo.
My sister slept until noon.
Wednesday.
Emily left for the pharmacy with Leo burning from fever.
My mother ordered expensive takeout—for herself.
Thursday.
Emily cried quietly while folding laundry.
Neither woman acknowledged her.
Friday morning.
Emily collapsed onto a kitchen chair for exactly forty-three seconds.
My mother walked in.
Looked directly at her.
Then placed her empty coffee mug beside the sink.
Without saying a word.
The room stayed silent.
The videos kept playing.
Hour after hour.
Lie after lie.
Finally my sister whispered,
"...You were spying on us."
"No."
I closed the laptop.
"I was trusting you."
That landed harder.
Because it was true.
"I paid for your flights."
I looked at Mom.
"I paid for your shopping."
I looked at my sister.
"I paid your rent three months in advance because you were struggling."
Both stared at the floor.
"And while I worked fourteen-hour days to support all of us..."
I looked upstairs.
"...my wife nearly broke."
No one spoke.
Not one word.
Until my mother finally muttered,
"Emily never asked for help."
I actually laughed.
A short.
Empty.
May you like
Disbelieving laugh.
"She shouldn't have had to."
