When Lisa’s husband, Derek, suggested a one-month separation to “reignite their relationship,” she hesitated. It sounded ridiculous. What kind of marriage needed a trial separation to work? But Derek insisted, painting it as some modern method to make them appreciate each other more.
“You’ll see,” he said one morning over coffee, flashing that confident smile. “It’ll be like dating all over again. You’ll miss me, I’ll miss you, and when the month’s over, it’ll be like a fresh start.”
Lisa wasn’t convinced, but every time she voiced doubts, Derek got irritated. So, she packed a bag, moved into a short-term rental across town, and tried to convince herself that maybe—just maybe—this would help.
The first week was lonely. Derek barely texted or called, but Lisa chalked it up to giving each other space. To distract herself, she invited her sister, Penelope, over one night.
“Are you sure about this, Lisa?” Penelope asked as she poured herself a glass of wine. “It’s a bit sketchy.”
Lisa sighed, arranging crackers and cheese on a wooden board. “I know. But Derek was so insistent. If I said no, he’d make me feel like the bad guy. I figured… maybe he really just needs this?”
“Or maybe,” Penelope said, tilting her head, “he needs space for something else.”
Lisa frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. It just seems odd, sis. I’d keep an eye on things.”
Lisa brushed off her sister’s concerns. She wanted to believe Derek was just trying to help their marriage. But deep down, something nagged at her.
Then, one quiet Saturday evening, her phone rang.
“Lisa!” It was her neighbor, Mary, her voice urgent. “You need to come home. Right now. I just saw a woman in your house!”
Lisa froze, the knife in her hand slipping onto the cutting board. “What?! Are you sure?”
“Positive,” Mary whispered. “I saw a silhouette through the window. I don’t know who she is, but she’s in your bedroom!”
A sharp pang of betrayal stabbed through Lisa’s chest. A woman? In her house? Her mind raced through possibilities—was Derek cheating? Had he really used this “break” as an excuse to move someone else in?
“I’ll be right there,” she said, grabbing her keys and bolting out the door.
Lisa’s heart pounded as she sped through the streets. She didn’t even knock when she arrived—just pushed the door open, her breath coming in short gasps.
She ran up the stairs and burst into her bedroom.
There, standing among her clothes, was Sheila.
Derek’s mother.
Lisa blinked, trying to make sense of the scene. Sheila was clutching one of Lisa’s lace bras between two fingers, her nose wrinkled in disapproval. The closet doors were wide open, and trash bags stuffed with Lisa’s clothes sat on the floor.
“Sheila?!” Lisa shouted, her voice trembling with fury. “What the hell are you doing?!”
Sheila turned, completely unfazed. “Oh, Lisa. You’re back early,” she said casually, waving the bra like it was something foul.
Lisa’s eyes darted to the bags. Dresses, lingerie, even casual outfits—her belongings, discarded like garbage.
“I’m cleaning up this house,” Sheila said with an air of authority. “Derek asked me to help get things in order while you were gone.”
Lisa felt her blood boil. “Get things in order?! By throwing away my clothes?! Who gave you the right?!”
Sheila pursed her lips. “Lisa, dear, someone had to step in. This house is a mess, and your wardrobe… well, it sends the wrong message. Derek deserves better.”
Lisa could hardly breathe. Sheila had always been critical, but this? This was another level of audacity.
“Where is Derek?” Lisa demanded.
“Out running errands,” Sheila said, waving a dismissive hand. “He knows I’m here. We both agree this is what’s best.”
Best? For whom?!
Lisa was still standing in shock when Derek finally came home an hour later. Sheila had moved to the living room, sensing her presence would only add fuel to the fire.
“Lisa?” Derek said, his eyebrows raised. “Why are you here?”
Lisa turned slowly, fury burning in her eyes. “Why am I here? Because Mary called and told me there was a woman in my house going through my things. Imagine my surprise when I found out it was your mother!”
Derek sighed heavily, like she was overreacting. “Lisa, calm down. Mom is just here to help.”
“Help?!” Lisa sputtered. “By throwing away my clothes?!”
“You’ve been struggling lately,” Derek said, his voice maddeningly patient. “Mom knows what it takes to keep a proper home.”
Lisa let out a bitter laugh. “A proper home? Derek, this isn’t a 1950s sitcom!”
Derek groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Lisa, don’t twist this. You’ve been overwhelmed. Mom offered to help.”
Lisa stared at him in disbelief. “You think this is helping us?! You let your mother invade our home, disrespect my space, and throw away my belongings! You don’t want a wife—you want a maid!”
Derek’s face darkened. “That’s not fair, Lisa.”
“Fair?” She grabbed a suitcase and stuffed in whatever clothes Sheila hadn’t deemed inappropriate. “You know what’s fair? A divorce.”
Three days later, Lisa was staying at Penelope’s apartment and had already contacted a lawyer.
“What was the worst part of it all for you, sis?” Penelope asked one evening as they made homemade pizzas.
Lisa sighed. “That my husband saw me as a failure. Our marriage wasn’t perfect, but I never thought we were beyond saving. And Sheila… she always hated me. Remember before the wedding? She criticized my hair, my makeup… even my dress!”
Penelope nodded, slicing a tomato. “I always knew Derek was the biggest mistake of your life.”
Lisa looked up, surprised. “What?!”
“I’m sorry, but after you met him, you lost yourself. Where’s the sister who painted for hours just because she loved it?”
Lisa was quiet, her chest tightening. “I… I didn’t realize.”
Penelope reached over and squeezed her hand. “Find her, Lisa. She deserves to come back.”
And so, she did. Lisa rented a space for herself—one with an extra room for an art studio. For the first time in years, she felt free. No Derek. No Sheila. Just her, finally reclaiming her life.
