As we locked the door behind us, I told myself it would be fine.
And the vacation was perfect.
The kids chased waves. Dave actually finished a book. I slept to the sound of the ocean instead of the dishwasher. On our last night, Max asked if we could stay forever.
The happiness lasted until I opened our front door.
The smell hit me first—stale, sour, wrong.
I stepped inside and stopped cold.
Our kitchen looked like chaos had moved in and settled comfortably. Trash overflowing. Empty bottles lined up across the counter. Red plastic cups scattered on the floor. Sticky rings on every surface. A half-eaten bowl of food sat abandoned on the coffee table, crusted over like it had been forgotten for days.
I walked into the living room.
And that’s when my heart truly sank.
Whatever Mandy had promised us… our home was no longer it.
