The roof was still leaking, my husband still ignoring it, and I had just pulled out the ladder when the doorbell rang. I wasn’t ready to see my brother — especially not with hollow eyes and a request that would drain our savings and break my heart a week later.
The morning rain had stopped, but the roof kept whispering like it had something to say I didn’t want to hear.
Drip. Drip. Always the same tired spot—right over the corner of the hallway rug.
The one Carl’s muddy boots had worn thin last spring.
I’d told him five times this week alone, “That roof’s not gonna patch itself.”
And five times, he’d kissed me on the forehead, half-listening, and mumbled, “I’ll get to it, babe,” before grabbing his dented lunch pail and travel mug and bolting out the door, twenty minutes behind, as always.
So I stayed home. Took a personal day from the library and slipped into what I call my “chore armor”—old gray sweatpants with a bleach stain the size of Idaho and Carl’s hand-me-down flannel.
I pulled the ladder out from the garage, stepping around a loose rake and Sadie’s forgotten soccer cleats.
I was just dragging the ladder toward the hallway when the doorbell rang.
We don’t get many visitors. Not on weekdays. Not out here.
I wiped my hands on my thighs and opened the front door.
“Soren?” I blinked, not sure I was seeing right.
He stood there, swaying slightly, holding his baseball cap like it was something fragile.
His face looked like it hadn’t seen real sleep in days. Pale. Eyes sunken in with bluish half-moons underneath.
His hair stuck up in the back like he’d been running his hands through it nonstop.
“Hey, Annie,” he said. Voice soft, like he was testing the word.
I stepped aside without thinking. “Come in.”
Inside, he didn’t look around.
Just sat down on the edge of the sofa like he might spring up again any second.
“I’m in trouble, sis.”
That’s how he said it. Flat. Cracked.
I sat in the chair across from him, heart beginning to race.
“What kind of trouble?”
“It’s the business.” He rubbed his hands together.
“The landscaping company. It’s not doing good. Actually, it’s drowning.”
I said nothing, letting him talk.
“I expanded too fast. Took out loans. Bought new trucks. Hired extra guys. Then came the dry season… clients pulled back, payments got late. I’m behind on everything. If I don’t make a balloon payment by the end of the month… it’s over.”
“Soren…” I said his name like a sigh.
He leaned forward, elbows on knees.
“I just need help. You’re the only one I trust.”
My breath caught.
I could already feel it in my chest—that creeping weight of something too big.
“How much?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
He looked at the floor. Then up at me.
“One-fifty.”
I sat back. “One hundred fifty thousand?”
He nodded. “I know it’s insane. But I’ll pay it back.
Every cent. With interest. I promise.”
My thoughts ran straight to Sadie. Her college savings. The emergency fund.
The tiny peace of mind Carl and I had built brick by brick.
But Soren… he was my baby brother.
Mom always called him “the dreamer,” and we all believed in him. Still did, maybe.
I closed my eyes, heart heavy.
“I’ll transfer it by Friday,” I said.
His arms wrapped around me, tight and trembling.
“Thank you,” he said into my shoulder.
And for that one second, I thought—just maybe—I was doing the right thing.
One week later, I sat with Tammy at Lulu’s Café, same as always.
The place smelled like scorched toast and weak coffee, but it was our spot.
We squeezed into the corner booth by the window, sunlight pouring in, making the sugar packets on the table glow like tiny lanterns.
Tammy chatted non-stop, bouncing from her neighbor’s new fence to some silly argument at work.
I stirred my coffee, more out of habit than anything, watching the steam twist up like cigarette smoke.
Then she said, “Oh! You have to see this,” and pulled out her phone.
“My friend just got engaged, for it feels like a tenth time to be honest! Look at this rock.”
She turned the screen toward me, eyes wide.
“He proposed at that winery in Pella. Real fairy tale stuff.”
I leaned in.
There, in the middle of a perfectly framed shot, was Soren. My brother. Grinning like a schoolboy on prom night.
His arm was around a woman in a tight red dress. Her nails matched the dress. Her smile was all teeth and sparkle.
And on her hand—on her ring finger—was a diamond so big it could’ve signaled satellites.
I blinked.
“That’s your friend’s fiancé?” I asked, trying to keep the tremble out of my voice.
Tammy nodded her head.
“They’ve been dating five months, tops. She said he bought the ring himself. Real platinum. Can you believe that?”
No. I couldn’t.
The taste of my coffee turned sharp and sour. Like metal.
I stared at Soren’s happy face and heard his voice all over again: “I just need help.”
But he didn’t need help. Not really.
He needed a stage—and I was the fool holding the curtain open.
I didn’t call. Didn’t text. I just drove straight over.
Soren’s house sat quiet on the corner of a dead-end street.
The yard looked tired, patches of grass turning yellow in the summer heat.
Fast food wrappers tumbled across the porch in the breeze like forgotten promises.
An empty Amazon box sat half-crushed near the steps, a footprint dent in the side.
I stepped over a ketchup-stained bag and knocked.
He opened the door slow. Eyes red, skin pale like he hadn’t seen sunlight in days.
“Annie?”
“We need to talk.”
He stepped aside, not saying another word. I walked in and my heart sank.
The living room was a mess. Takeout bags stacked on the coffee table. A half-eaten burrito on a plate.
The smell of stale fries and perfume hung in the air like bad memories.
A pair of stilettos leaned against the couch, one heel bent.
Lipstick stains bled down the side of a wine glass left on the floor.
He dropped into the recliner like gravity had just doubled.
“You lied to me,” I said.
He flinched, eyes darting toward the window.
“I saw the ring,” I said, my voice sharper now.
He didn’t speak. Just ran both hands down his face like he wanted to erase himself.
“I gave you my family’s savings. Carl’s and mine. That money was for Sadie’s college, for emergencies. We worked years for that. And you bought a ring?”
He opened his mouth, closed it, then finally said, “It wasn’t… I didn’t plan to. I swear.”
His voice shook. The rest came out in a rush, words tripping over each other.
“She’s different, Annie. I thought—she made me feel seen. She said her ex never gave her anything, never treated her right. I wanted her to feel special. So I got her the ring. Took her places. Bought things. It made her smile. But it was never enough. She always wanted more.”
I sat on the edge of the couch. Cold anger sat heavy in my chest.
“So you used me.”
“No!” He leaned forward.
“I mean—yes. But I didn’t want to. I was desperate. My business is going under. I can’t think straight. But I can’t lose her. I love her.”
I looked at him—really looked. Still my little brother. Still chasing love like it was something to earn with money.
I stood up.
“Then let me show you who she really is,” I said.
He blinked.
“Come with me.”
We sat in my car across the street from Oak & Ember, the nicest place in town.
It had white tablecloths, soft yellow lights in the windows, and valet service.
The kind of place you save for anniversaries, not weekday nights.
Soren sat next to me, his knee bouncing up and down like a piston. His hands were tight fists in his lap. I didn’t say anything. I just watched the entrance.
Then the door opened.
And there she was.
Same red dress. Different heels this time—shiny black ones with gold buckles.
Her hair curled just right, like she had a team working on it.
She walked out with a man beside her, tall and smooth-looking in a navy suit.
His watch caught the light. His shoes didn’t have a single scuff.
They were laughing. Loud. Carefree. Like two kids sneaking beers behind the bleachers.
Soren sucked in a breath. I felt it more than heard it.
Then came the kiss—soft, practiced, like they’d done it a hundred times.
The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny velvet box. She gasped.
Her hand went to her chest like she’d won the lottery.
He smiled, proud, and kissed her again.
Then they slid into his Tesla and drove off, the taillights fading into the night.
Soren didn’t move. His face had gone pale, the life drained from it.
He looked like he was holding back a scream—or maybe a sob.
“I’m sorry,” I said gently, resting my hand on his shoulder.
He didn’t look at me. Just stared ahead.
“She told me I was the only one.”
I nodded.
“She’s told a lot of men that. My friend warned me. She plays a game. Gifts. Promises. But she never stays.”
Soren’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“I loved her.”
“I know,” I said.
Back at his house, Soren sat on the porch steps, elbows on knees.
I sat beside him. The wind carried the scent of someone’s BBQ down the street. Kids laughed a block away.
“I’ll fix this,” he said. “Pay you back. Every cent.”
“I didn’t come here for the money,” I said. “I came for my brother.”
His eyes glistened.
“I was stupid.”
“You were in love.”
He chuckled bitterly.
“I was in a trance.”
I stood. Held out my hand.
“Time to wake up, Soren.”
He took it.
