Chapter 1No Room For A Third

Derek and I had been living together for three years when our apartment gained a permanent squatter.

My best friend, Giselle.

It started with the occasional sleepover. Before long, her slippers sat permanently by the front door, her plush bathrobe hung in our bathroom, and her oat milk took over the entire middle shelf of the fridge. Our couple’s mug set turned into a set of three. The accent pillows on the sofa multiplied. Even our vacation photos started featuring her in the background.

I told myself to let it slide. She was going through a rough patch, after all.

Then my mother was diagnosed with a tumor. After her surgery, she needed a quiet place to recover, so I planned to set her up in our guest bedroom.

Derek blocked me at the hallway, his eyebrows pulled tight.

"That's Giselle’s room," he said, sounding exasperated. "All her stuff is in there. Where is she supposed to go?"

I stood there, stunned. "Derek, that's my mother. And I'm the owner of this house."

He spoke with complete conviction. "Your mom can stay at a hotel nearby. Why do you have to kick Giselle out?"

Standing in the hallway, staring at the guest room door covered in Giselle's favorite cartoon stickers, a cold realization washed over me.

In this home, I was the guest.

…

"I’ll cover your mom's hotel bills," Derek sighed, his tone overly soft, like he was pacifying a throw-a-fit child. He reached out to grab my wrist.

I stepped back, dodging his grip.

His hand froze in midair, his brow furrowing deeper. "Nora, Giselle is a light sleeper. If she switches beds, she won't sleep a wink. Your mom needs peace and quiet after her discharge. A hotel has daily maid service and twenty-four-hour room service. Isn't that better for her?"

He looked at me as if his logic were unassailable.

The guest room door creaked open. Giselle poked her head out, wearing the pink silk bathrobe that was supposed to be mine.

Her eyes were red, her voice trembling. "Nora, please don't be mad at Derek. It's all my fault. I’ll pack my things and leave right now. Your mom's health comes first. I can just rent a basement room somewhere."

Tears streamed down her cheeks right on cue.

Derek’s face darkened. He stormed over and stepped right in front of her, shielding her with his body. "What are you talking about? A girl like you, living in a basement?"

He turned back to glare at me, his voice sharp with disapproval. "Nora, can you grow up? Giselle just got laid off. She's under massive pressure. Do you really have to push her into a corner right now?"

I watched the two of them. I watched how Derek reflexively put her behind him.

A wave of nausea hit me.

"I’m pushing her?" My voice was barely a whisper. "I pay half the mortgage on this place every single month. I want my mother, who just had a tumor removed, to rest in my own guest bedroom. And you call that pushing her?"

Derek blinked, caught off guard by the mention of the mortgage. He lowered his voice. "We can discuss money later. Right now, we're figuring out where your mother stays."

"No need to figure it out." I turned toward the entryway to grab my bag. "I’ll take my mother to a hotel."

Giselle took a quick step forward. "Nora, let me help you take your mom’s luggage downstairs."

"Don't touch my mother's things," I said, eyeing her coldly.

She flinched and retreated closer to Derek's side.

A flash of annoyance crossed Derek's eyes. "Nora, what is wrong with you? She's just trying to help. What's with the attitude?"

I ignored him, opened the front door, and walked out.