Saturday mornings were my sacred time. Just me, my steaming cup of coffee, my favorite book, and the soft hum of nature all around me. It was my ritual, my escape. No stress, no noise—just peace.
But then, Ryan called.
“I’ll be there tomorrow,” he said casually.
At first, I smiled, warmth spreading through me. “Tomorrow? That’s sooner than I expected, but it’s great! I can’t wait.”
There was a pause. “Yeah… one more thing,” he added, his tone shifting slightly. “It’s kind of loud here. I’ll explain later.”
Before I could ask anything, the line went dead.
I frowned. ‘Loud?’ What did he mean by that? Probably just nerves. Moving in together was a big step, but we had talked about it. I took a deep breath, sipped my coffee, and decided to let it go. Whatever it was, I would deal with it tomorrow.
I had no idea how wrong I was.
The next morning, I stood on my front porch, gripping the railing as my peaceful home transformed into utter chaos. My driveway was packed with people, suitcases, and noise. It wasn’t just Ryan standing there with a single suitcase like I had imagined.
It was his entire family.
His parents. His sister. His brother-in-law. His younger brother, who barely looked out of high school. And then there were the twins—two energetic little girls bouncing around like they had just chugged three cans of soda.
I blinked in disbelief, hoping this was some kind of joke. But no, this was real.
Ryan stood in the middle of it all, looking sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck. He gave me an awkward smile. “Uh, surprise?”
I stared at him. “What. The. Hell. Ryan?”
He winced. “Remember that ‘little thing’ I mentioned?”
“This is not a little thing! This is an entire family reunion!”
He sighed, shifting from foot to foot. “We… kind of have a family rule. We always stay together. I didn’t have a choice.”
I closed my eyes for a second, inhaling slowly. If I kept looking at the madness unfolding in front of me, I might actually explode.
Karen, his sister, was already dragging a suitcase toward my porch. “We’ll make ourselves right at home!” she chirped.
Her husband, Ron, followed, lugging a portable crib. Meanwhile, Ryan’s mother, Regina, had started peering through my windows, nodding approvingly like a home appraiser.
And the twins? Oh, they had discovered sticks in my yard and were now dueling with them like tiny, sugar-fueled knights.
“How long?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm.
Ryan hesitated. “Not long. Probably.”
Probably?
That single word sent a chill down my spine.
The days that followed were pure, unfiltered chaos. My house—my once peaceful, quiet house—became an overcrowded circus.
Karen took over my office as if she had signed a lease. Ron and the twins turned my reading nook into a play area, where tiny shoes, stuffed animals, and baby blankets replaced my beloved books. The twins, Dolley and Colie, never stopped moving. Morning, noon, and especially night—they were running, jumping, and knocking over things I didn’t even know could be knocked over.
Every morning, the kitchen turned into a battlefield.
“Mom, I don’t want oatmeal!” one of the twins whined.
“You have to eat something, sweetie,” Karen replied, balancing a baby bottle in one hand while buttering toast with the other.
“I WANT PANCAKES!” the other twin shrieked, banging her tiny fists on the table.
Meanwhile, Regina stood at the stove, arguing with Karen about the correct way to cook eggs, while Ron managed to burn toast for the third day in a row. The scent of charred bread permanently lingered in the air.
All I wanted was coffee.
But when I pressed the power button on my espresso machine… nothing happened. I tried again. Checked the plug. Still dead.
A creeping sense of horror filled me. I turned to Karen. “Do you know what happened to my coffee machine?”
“Oh!” She chuckled. “That was Ron. He pressed some wrong buttons, maybe poured something where he shouldn’t have. Anyway, it made a funny noise and just… stopped.”
I gripped my book so tightly my fingers ached. My vision blurred—not from tears, but from pure, blinding frustration.
I needed air before I screamed or cried—possibly both.
Stepping onto the porch, I froze.
There, in my sacred rocking chair, sat Thomas, Ryan’s father. Legs stretched wide, he chewed on a piece of pie, scattering crumbs everywhere as he casually filled out a crossword puzzle.
My chair. My sanctuary.
I clenched my jaw so tightly I felt my headache worsen.
Ryan appeared behind me. “Morning, love. How’d you sleep?”
I turned to him slowly, voice trembling with barely contained rage. “Ryan, everything is horrible.”
His expression fell. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll get you a new coffee machine.”
“I don’t want a new one! I just wanted to drink coffee in peace in my home, in my chair—”
He looked past me and sighed. “Dad, maybe let Lisa have her chair?”
Thomas glanced up, blinking. “Oh. Sure, sure.” He grunted as he stood.
The chair let out an ominous crack.
I stiffened. A tiny splinter of wood fell onto the porch.
I took a slow breath. Ignorance is bliss. Ignorance is bliss.
I lowered myself into the chair, brushing off crumbs. Finally, some peace. I exhaled.
CRACK.
The chair gave out completely.
I hit the ground hard. My book flew out of my hands. Pain shot up my back.
Ryan rushed forward. “Lisa! Are you okay?”
I wasn’t listening. My eyes locked onto my book. My beloved book.
Covered in pink hearts and stick figure princesses.
The twins had colored all over it.
That was it.
“OUT!” I bellowed, shaking with fury.
Ryan’s face paled. “I’m so sorry.”
The next day, I stood by the window, arms crossed, watching Ryan talk to his family in the guest room. His shoulders were tense. They had to leave.
Guilt twisted in my chest, but I pushed it down. This was my home, my peace they had shattered.
Yet, for the first time since they arrived, the silence didn’t feel comforting. It felt… empty.
Later, I stepped onto the porch and found Ryan working on something. My rocking chair.
It wasn’t perfect—patched, nailed, a little rough. But it was whole.
He turned, holding something out. A book. My book. A new, pristine copy.
“Ryan…” I whispered.
“I can’t change my family,” he said softly. “But I can fix what they mess up. That’s all I can do.”
My chest tightened. He looked ready to leave.
“Wait,” I said.
His brows lifted slightly.
I swallowed. “Don’t go. This is… hard. But I love you. And your family is part of you.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “You sure? Because they will test you.”
I laughed weakly. “I’ll adjust.”
He pulled me into his arms, and I let him.
Because love isn’t just passion—it’s the chaos that comes with it. And choosing to stay anyway.
