Chapter 1: Misplaced Kindness

Autumn in Seattle usually arrives with lingering drizzles, painting the sky in a somber shade of gray. But inside the home I shared with my husband—Elena and Mark—everything felt unusually warm. Mark was a gentle software engineer, and I was a freelance editor. We had been married for five years, and our life was as calm as a glass lake.

Until Sarah appeared.

Sarah was my best friend from our college days in Boston. She had just gone through a messy divorce and had been evicted from her apartment in New York. When she called me, her voice breaking into jagged sobs, my heart wrenched. “Elena, I have no one left. I lost my job, my home, and 그 tattered excuse of a man took all my savings.”

Without a second thought, I turned to Mark. He furrowed his brow slightly, but seeing the desperate plea in my eyes, he nodded: “Just two weeks, honey. We need our privacy.”

I promised him it would be two weeks. I had no idea that those fourteen days were all Sarah needed to stage a perfect play to steal everything I owned.

Chapter 2: The Uninvited Guest of the Soul

The day Sarah stepped out of the Uber with three large suitcases, she looked haggard yet retained a sharp, piercing beauty. Her blue eyes were watery as she threw her arms around me.

“Thank you, Elena. You’re my lifesaver.”

The first few days went beautifully. Sarah helped with the cooking and cleaning, constantly praising our “perfect little nest.” But slowly, I began to notice subtle shifts—details I dismissed at the time out of sheer naivety.

Sarah started wearing flimsy silk slips around the living room in the evenings, even when Mark was sitting right there reading. She frequently approached Mark with “technical issues” on her phone, creating unnecessary physical proximity.

“Oh, Mark, you’re a genius! Elena is so lucky to have such a brilliant husband,” she’d exclaim, her hand lightly brushing his shoulder as he helped her reset an email account.

Mark, a man who rarely interacted with women outside of work and marriage, was clumsy and awkward at first. But soon, he began to smile more at Sarah’s flattery. I told myself: “Don’t be jealous, Elena. She’s traumatized and just trying to fit in.”

Chapter 3: Silent Cracks

By the second week, Sarah showed no intention of leaving. She claimed her job interviews had been pushed back.

One evening, I came home late from work to find them sitting together on the sofa, sharing a bottle of wine and watching an old movie. Their laughter echoed all the way to the front door. Seeing me, Mark jumped up guiltily, while Sarah remained poised. “You’re back! Mark was just telling me about your hiking trip. He’s such a charismatic storyteller!”

A jolt of electricity shot through my chest. That was our private memory. Why was he sharing it with her?

That night, I told Mark: “I think it’s time Sarah finds her own place.” Mark looked at me, his gaze shifting: “What’s wrong with you? She’s going through a hard time. You’d really throw your best friend onto the street? She’s been so helpful around the house.”

“Helpful?” I was stunned. “You’ve only known her for ten days, Mark.”

Our first real argument erupted. And that was the very crack Sarah had been waiting for.

Chapter 4: The Perfect Trap

On the final day of the second week, I had to travel to Portland for a business trip. I left with a heavy sense of unease, but Sarah took my hand reassuringly: “Go, Elena. I’ll look after the house and cook for Mark. When you get back, I’ll be packed and gone, I promise.”

I believed that promise.

I returned home a day earlier than expected, hoping to surprise my husband. The house was eerily quiet. Mark’s car was in the garage. I stepped inside softly, intending to hug him from behind.

But the scene in the living room shattered my world.

On the coffee table sat an empty wine bottle. And on the sofa—where we used to cuddle every night—Mark and Sarah were entwined. Sarah’s giggles, a sound I once thought was friendly, now sounded like glass shards scraping against my heart.

“When are you going to tell her?” Sarah whispered in a sultry tone. “I don’t know… Elena is a good person, but she’s always so busy. With you, I feel alive again,” Mark replied, his voice carrying a warmth I hadn’t heard in years.

I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I felt an infinite emptiness. I dropped my keys on the hardwood floor.

They both bolted upright. Mark’s face turned ghostly white, but Sarah… she didn’t look remorseful at all. She calmly adjusted her robe and looked at me with the triumphant eyes of a conqueror who had just seized a fortress.

Chapter 5: The Price of Kindness

“Elena, let me explain…” Mark stammered, standing up. “There’s no need,” I interrupted, my voice colder than I knew possible. “Sarah, I gave you two weeks to find a home. It seems you didn’t just find a place to stay—you decided to take the husband too.”

Sarah stood up and crossed her arms. “Elena, don’t play the victim. If your marriage was actually solid, I wouldn’t have stood a chance. He chose me because I understand what he needs.”

It turned out that for two weeks, Sarah had been drip-feeding Mark poison—subtle comments about my “workaholism,” my supposed lack of emotional availability, while positioning herself as the “muse” who truly listened.

I looked at Mark, the man I had sworn to grow old with. He stood there, caught between the wife who had built a life with him and the woman who had appeared two weeks ago. His silence was the most painful answer of all.

“Get out of my house. Both of you.”