I only wanted to enjoy a peaceful weekend at my beach house. But when I arrived, my sister’s husband was already there with his entire family and shouted, “What is this parasite doing here? Leave right now!” I simply smiled and said, “Alright, I’ll go.” But what happened afterward made him deeply regret those words.

His name is Ricardo, and he has been married to my older sister Camila for five years.

“We’re having a family gathering here. Nobody invited you.”

I blinked, trying to process what he was saying.

“Ricardo, this is my house. I’m the owner.”

“Well, Camila said we could use it this weekend,” he replied, folding his arms.

“So if you don’t want to ruin everyone’s fun, you should leave.”

I looked past him, searching for my sister.

Camila stood near the kitchen island, looking down at her phone and deliberately avoiding eye contact with me.

She knew.

Of course she knew.

She knew I planned to come this weekend because I told her two days earlier during our mother’s birthday dinner in Veracruz.

She had smiled and told me to enjoy my break.

And then, apparently, she handed the keys to my house to Ricardo’s entire family as if it were some vacation rental.

“Camila,” I called out, raising my voice above the chatter in the room.
“Can we talk for a moment?”

She finally looked up, her face carefully neutral.

“Valeria, I didn’t think you’d actually come. You’re always busy with work.”

“I told you I was coming. I said clearly that I needed this weekend to rest.”