My sister got the house. I got a chessboard.
At first, I thought it was a final insult from my father — something to remind me of how little I meant to him. Then, I heard it: a strange rattle coming from one of the pieces.
“Life is a chess game,” my father used to say. “You don’t win by shouting. You win by seeing three moves ahead.”
I used to roll my eyes whenever he said that. I thought it was one of his old-man speeches. But that day, after the funeral, I would’ve given anything to hear him say it one more time.
I didn’t speak when he passed away in the bedroom where we used to play chess every Sunday. I didn’t speak when neighbors brought casseroles and condolences that felt colder than the air. I didn’t speak when Lara arrived — tanned and smiling, wrapped in a coat that probably cost more than the funeral itself.
“Gosh,” she said to my mother, sniffing the air. “It still smells like him in here.”
Of course, it did. His favorite perfumed coat was still hanging by the door. But Lara didn’t come to mourn. She came to collect.
We sat side by side in silence as the lawyer unfolded the envelope with my father’s will. He cleared his throat and began reading aloud.
“For my daughter Lara, I leave the house and everything within it. The property cannot be sold while its current resident remains.”
Lara didn’t look at me. She just smiled — one of those tight, self-satisfied smiles she’d worn her whole life.
“And for my daughter Kate…” The lawyer paused. I held my breath, waiting.
“I leave my chessboard and its pieces.”
Lara snorted softly, tilting her head toward me. “A house for me, and a hobby for you. Fitting, don’t you think?”
I didn’t respond. I just stood up, grabbed the chess set, and walked out of the room. Her laughter followed me, but I didn’t look back.
I walked without any clear direction, feeling the wind bite through my sleeves, until I found myself at the old park. The weathered chess tables were still there, half-sunken into the ground, overtaken by moss.
I sat down at one of the tables. Opened the chessboard. My fingers moved without thinking. Bishop. Knight. Pawn. King.
“You’re really doing this?” Lara’s voice broke through the silence. I didn’t need to turn around. I knew it was her. She stood beside me and dropped onto the bench, as if the seat had always been hers.
“Still clinging to Daddy’s toys? You really are predictable.”
She reached out and moved one of the pawns without asking. I responded, my fingers brushing the pieces like old friends.
We started playing in silence.
“You know,” she said, cocking her head to the side, “he always thought this game taught character. But it’s just wood. Just symbols.” She moved again. “I got the house.”
I said nothing.
“You got a game.”
Pawn. Knight. Bishop.
“You always thought this meant something,” she continued, a smirk tugging at her lips. “But in the end, it’s just wood.”
Then, with a swift flick of her wrist, she made her final move.
“Checkmate,” she declared, slamming the knight down with unnecessary flair.
Then — just for the drama, or maybe just to be cruel — she stood up and swept the pieces off the table with a single swipe of her arm.
“No point in clinging to illusions.”
The pieces scattered, bouncing on the stone table, tumbling into the grass. One piece landed near my foot. I bent down, picked it up, and rolled it between my fingers.
Click.
What was that sound? It wasn’t wood. Not hollow. I shook the piece gently. A rattle. My heart skipped a beat.
There was something inside!
I looked up, meeting Lara’s gaze. For a split second, I thought she had heard it too. But she tilted her head, bored, and let her eyes wander past me like I wasn’t even there.
“Come to dinner tonight,” she said casually. “Mom asked. Said we should honor him properly. As a family.”
I blinked.
“Did she really?” I asked, a knot forming in my stomach.
“Of course,” Lara replied, unfazed. “It’s what he would’ve wanted. We should all be… civil.”
Her heels clicked on the pavement as she turned and walked away. Her voice was the ticking of a clock.
Did she really just make that up? Or was this part of her plan all along? Knowing Lara, either answer was possible. She was clever — and her invitations could be just as dangerous as threats.
That dinner wasn’t an offer. It was a move.
And I had no choice but to sit at the board.
A few hours later, I walked downstairs to the smell of rosemary chicken and something else. Something unexpected. Lara was already in the kitchen, humming to herself as she stirred a pot, plating food like it was second nature. She even wore an apron — the same one she used to call “tragically domestic.”
“Evening,” she said brightly, opening the oven. “Hope you’re hungry. I made rosemary chicken. And there’s a vegan option for Mom.”
I blinked. Our mother stared at Lara, as if someone had replaced her overnight.
“You cooked?” she asked, eyebrows raised.
Lara laughed sweetly. “It’s not that hard. I followed a recipe. Even cut fresh parsley for garnish.”
Fresh parsley. Of course.
I sat down in silence, across from the woman wearing my sister’s face, playing a role I didn’t recognize.
Throughout dinner, Lara kept up the charade — passing dishes, topping off water glasses, smiling like she hadn’t just mocked me in the park hours before. But she didn’t look at me. Not directly. Not until I stood up and placed the chessboard on the console in the hallway, just behind me, just in sight.
That was my move. A pawn offered.
I wanted to see if she would flinch. She didn’t. But her smile tightened, just a little too much.
Our mother noticed.
“You’ve been very sweet today,” she said to Lara, her voice light but with a deliberate edge. “Unusually sweet.”
“I’m trying to be better. We’re family, right?” Lara replied with a forced smile.
“Some bonds are stronger than others,” our mother said, cutting into her food. “Especially when they’re tested. When people choose to stay. To support.”
Her eyes never left me. I forced a smile.
“Is that what this is? Support?” I asked.
“I just think,” she said, setting her fork down, “that your father… he finally saw who truly stood beside him. Who gave him peace.”
“Peace?” I asked, my voice growing tight. “You mean silence. Compliance. He didn’t want peace — he wanted loyalty.”
“And you think that was you?” Lara said, her voice a little too sweet.
I looked at her, then turned back to our mother. “I stayed. I bathed him. Fed him. Watched him fade.”
“And he left you a game,” Lara said with a cold smile.
“Maybe that says more about him than me,” I snapped back.
Our mother leaned forward, her voice low and sharp. “He gave my daughter the house because she deserved it. She sacrificed more than you know. And maybe it’s time you stopped acting like the victim.”
“I’m not acting,” I said, rising to my feet. “You’re just not used to seeing me speak.”
There was a long silence. Then Lara laughed, a little too loud. “Okay, let’s not ruin dinner. This is supposed to be nice.”
Our mother turned to me. “You should start packing in the morning. Just so there are no… complications.”
I stared at both of them — at the fake peace they tried to sell as family. Then I picked up my plate, silently brought it to the sink, and turned to walk upstairs, not saying a word.
I locked my door behind me.
But I knew one thing for sure: dinner wasn’t over.
The house held its breath. I was waiting.
Suddenly, in the darkness, I heard the faint creak of floorboards, the soft click of a drawer. A shuffle of velvet. I opened my eyes. There, crouched over the chessboard, was Lara. The pieces were scattered, some cracked open. A paring knife lay beside her.
One of the rooks had cracked in half. She was holding a small velvet pouch, its contents glinting with stolen pride.
“So,” I said calmly. “It wasn’t just wood after all.”
Lara spun around, her eyes wide with shock. Then she narrowed them, suspicion creeping in.
“You knew.”
I didn’t answer. I just stared at her. She stood, straightening herself like a dancer about to take her final bow.
“I solved it,” she said. “He left the real gift inside the game. And I found it.”
“You broke it open like a thief,” I said, my voice cold.
“He gave you the board, but he gave me the meaning. And now I have it.”
“Do you?” I asked, stepping closer.
From the shadows, her mother emerged.
“She figured it out,” she said flatly. “And you didn’t.”
I looked at both of them, the confidence in Lara’s eyes, the satisfaction on her mother’s face. They were already reaching for the pieces.
Lara lifted the pouch and dropped a few stones onto her palm. Bright, glassy things.
“Check and mate,” she whispered.
I took a deep breath. “No. Zugzwang.”
“What?” Lara frowned.
“It’s a chess term,” I said, meeting her gaze. “It means every move you make from now on only makes things worse.”
Our mother frowned. “What are you talking about?”
I tapped one of the pieces Lara had cracked open.
“Glass. Colored. Smooth. From a sewing kit I had when I was fifteen.”
I looked straight at Lara.
“You found what I let you find.”
Her face went pale. “The stones you found? They’re fakes. Glass from an old bead kit I used to keep for sewing buttons. I swapped them out the morning after the funeral.”
Her lips parted, but no words came out.
I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out an envelope.
“Here’s the deposit confirmation from the bank. The real pouch is already locked away. Under my name. Safe. Untouchable.”
Lara stepped back, her face burning. Her mother remained silent.
“And there’s something else,” I said, reaching into the chessboard case.
A folded piece of paper. Soft from time, but still intact.
“My father’s real will. The one he hid, because he knew the official one would only start the game.”
I unfolded the letter and read aloud:
“To my daughters…
If you’re reading this, it means the game has played out.
Lara, I loved you fiercely. I gave you much. You had freedom, opportunity, and every chance to show who you are. To your mother — I gave all I could. I hope it brought peace.
Kate — you stayed. You carried the weight. I gave you little but left you the map. That was my last game. My test.
If you are honest, you may live together in peace. If not, everything belongs to Kate.
I gave you all the pieces of me. I needed to see who would protect the whole.”
I folded the letter. Silence thickened the air between us. I looked at Lara, then her mother.
“Checkmate.”
