The doorbell rang just as I sat on the couch, scrolling through my phone. I got up to answer it and found the courier with my latest package. After signing for it, I brought it inside and set it on the kitchen counter.
Just as I was about to open the package, Mom and Chloe walked in, their eyes immediately lighting up at the sight of the box.
“Savannah, what did you get this time?” Mom, who’s 58, asked, leaning in closer.
I held up my hand. “Please, don’t touch my packages. I’ve told you before.”
Mom waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, we’re just curious. It’s no big deal.”
Chloe, my 17-year-old sister, added, “Yeah, we’re just interested. What’s inside?”
I sighed, feeling my frustration grow. “Look, I need you both to respect my privacy,” I said. “I took you in after the fire, but that doesn’t mean you can invade my space.”
Mom shrugged. “We’re sorry, Savannah. We don’t mean to intrude.”
Chloe nodded, her face showing genuine remorse. “We really don’t. We just get excited.”
I softened a bit but kept my tone firm. “Excitement or not, it’s my stuff. I need you to respect that, okay?”
Living with Mom and Chloe after their house fire had been challenging. They constantly walked into my room unannounced and opened my packages, no matter how many times I asked them to stop.
Every time a courier brought something, it felt like a race to get to it before they did.
“Alright, we’ll try to do better,” Mom said, giving me a small smile.
“Yeah, we promise,” Chloe added.
I hoped they meant it this time. Privacy was something I cherished, and it was getting harder to find it in my own home.
At 34, I valued my personal space more than ever. I turned back to the package, hoping this conversation would finally make a difference.
But when I returned home from work and entered my bedroom, I found another opened package on my bed. My patience was wearing thin. This time, it was the special gift I had bought for my fiancé – expensive cologne.
“Mom! Chloe! Get in here!” I yelled, my voice echoing through the house.
Mom and Chloe appeared at the door, looking guilty.
“Did you open this?” I asked, holding up the items.
“Oh, we’re sorry, dear,” Mom said softly. “It won’t happen again.”
“You’ve said that countless times, Mom! Like, what’s wrong with you? We spoke about this just this morning!”
Chloe shuffled her feet, looking down. “We really didn’t mean any harm. We just… wanted to know what was inside. We were curious.”
“Curious?” I echoed, feeling a surge of anger. “These were gifts for my fiancé! Do you know how personal this is?”
Mom stepped forward, her face earnest. “Savannah, we’re truly sorry. We know we’ve overstepped. We’ll try harder to respect your space.”
As she spoke, a familiar scent caught my attention. I sniffed the air and recognized the distinct fragrance.
“Wait a minute,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “You sprayed the cologne, didn’t you?”
They exchanged guilty glances, confirming my suspicion.
“See?” I said, my frustration boiling over. “You both used these things and didn’t even try to cover it up. How am I supposed to trust you if you keep doing this? Out! Just leave me alone!”
They both nodded, and I could see the guilt on their faces. But I couldn’t help feeling a bit of doubt. They had promised before they wouldn’t open my packages, yet here we were again.
My frustration was boiling over. My personal space was sacred, and their constant invasions were too much.
I watched as they left my room, leaving me alone with the used gifts and a heavy heart. I knew this conversation wouldn’t be the last. I had to take matters into my own hands.
Late that night, as the house fell silent, I sat on my bed, planning my revenge. I’d had enough of their disregard for my privacy, and it was time to teach them a lesson.
I jotted down ideas in my notebook, feeling a mix of anger and determination. If they couldn’t respect my boundaries, they’d learn the hard way. Revenge was a dish best served cold, and I was ready to serve it.
The next morning, I prepared some special packages and sent them to myself. Each box had items chosen to surprise and confuse Mom and Chloe. It was time to teach them a lesson.
When I came home, I saw the first two packages had been opened and then repacked again. The house was unusually quiet, and Mom and Chloe looked pale and nervous.
I didn’t say anything to them that day. I knew my plan was working.
