The Sisters Nightmare

Chapter 6: feeling guilty.

You know those short drives that somehow feel longer than they should? That was this one. Twenty minutes, technically. From their grandparents’ house to the new place. A straight road for most of it, a couple of turns, nothing complicated. But inside that Kia Carnival, it felt… layered. Like too many emotions had been stuffed into a small space and no one wanted to be the first to unpack them.

There was music playing—one of those random medleys that jump from one song to another like it can’t decide what mood it wants. Soft at first, then louder, then fading into something nostalgic. It filled the silence in a way that almost worked. Almost.

Luna was in the backseat, legs folded under her like she owned the space. The kitten was with her, small, restless, unpredictable. She kept brushing its fur absentmindedly, the way people do when they’re trying to distract themselves from thinking too much. “Stay here,” she muttered to it at some point, though her tone said she didn’t expect it to listen.

Up front, Mrs. Janny had her focus locked on the road. Hands steady on the wheel, posture stiff—not tense exactly, but controlled. Like someone who had already gone through too much to afford another mistake. Joy sat beside her, scrolling through her phone, though she wasn’t really reading anything. You could tell. Her thumb moved, but her eyes didn’t follow.

Then it happened. The kitten slipped. It wasn’t dramatic. No loud sound, no warning. Just a quick, silent movement—one second it was with Luna, the next it had made its way forward, stepping lightly between the seats like it belonged there. And then it was right beside Mrs. Janny. Near her hand. Near her phone.

She didn’t see it coming. So when she turned slightly and caught movement in her peripheral vision—something small, sudden, alive—she reacted on instinct. A sharp gasp. Then a shout. “Jesus—!” Her hand jerked. The steering wheel shifted just enough. Not a full swerve. But enough.

The car drifted. Tires grazed the edge of the lane. For a split second, it felt like the road tilted. Like everything was about to snap out of place. Joy looked up instantly. “Mom—!” Mrs. Janny corrected it just as fast. Hands tightened. Wheel straightened. The car stabilized. The moment passed.

But the silence that followed? That one stayed. You could hear the engine again. The music. Even the faint hum of the road beneath them. Everything normal—but not really. Mrs. Janny exhaled slowly, but there was heat in it now. The controlled kind of anger that doesn’t need volume to be felt.

“Luna.” She didn’t raise her voice much. She didn’t need to. Luna already knew. “I told you to keep that thing in one place,” Mrs. Janny continued, eyes still on the road. “This is exactly what I meant.”

“It’s just a kitten—”

“Just?” Mrs. Janny cut in, finally glancing at her through the mirror. “We almost had an accident.” That shut Luna up for a second. Not because she agreed—but because she could feel the weight behind it. Then, quieter, a little defensive: “It didn’t mean to—”

“That’s not the point.” And there it was. Not really about the kitten anymore. Mrs. Janny’s grip tightened slightly on the wheel. “We don’t even know where it came from. You just picked it up like it belongs to us.” There was something else in her voice now. Something deeper than irritation.

Luna leaned back, folding her arms. “Grandma didn’t complain.”

“I’m not your grandmother.” That landed harder than expected. Joy glanced between them, then looked away again. She wasn’t interested in joining that one.

The rest of the drive? Quiet. Not peaceful—just… restrained. When they pulled up, it didn’t register immediately. You know how sometimes your brain needs a second to catch up with what your eyes are seeing? That.

The house stood there like it had been waiting. Large. Clean lines, polished exterior, wide windows that caught the light just right. Not flashy in a loud way—more like quiet confidence. The kind that doesn’t need to prove anything.

Luna blinked. “Wait…” Joy frowned slightly, leaning forward as if that would help her process it faster. “Why are we stopping here?”

Mrs. Janny turned off the engine. No rush. No dramatic reveal. Just a simple movement. “We’re home.”

It took a second. Then another. Joy stepped out first. Slow. Measured. Like she didn’t trust it yet. Her eyes scanned the building, taking in the details—the size, the structure, the way everything looked… intentional. “This isn’t…” she started, then stopped.

Mrs. Janny closed her door. “It is.”

Luna was already out, turning in a full circle like she needed to see it from every angle. “This is ours?”

“Yes.” There was no pride in how Mrs. Janny said it. No need for validation. Just a statement.

Joy walked closer, almost drawn to it. Her fingers brushed the exterior wall lightly, like touching it would confirm it was real. “I thought…” she hesitated, then laughed softly, almost embarrassed. “I thought it belonged to someone else.”

“It does,” Mrs. Janny said. “It belongs to me.” That landed differently. Because now it wasn’t just a house. It was a statement.

Inside, everything was already set. Furniture in place. Clean lines, neutral tones, sharp details. The kind of interior that looks like it came straight out of a catalog—but lived in just enough to feel real. You could tell professionals handled it. People who knew exactly how to make a space feel expensive without trying too hard.

Luna dropped onto the sofa immediately, bouncing slightly. “Okay… I’m not mad anymore.”

Joy sat more carefully, still looking around. “When did you even do all this?”

“Recently,” Mrs. Janny replied, setting her keys down. “I didn’t want delays.” That made sense. She wasn’t the type to linger in transitions. For a moment, things felt… lighter.

Then Luna’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it casually at first. Then paused. Her expression shifted. Brows pulling together. Lips tightening.

“What?” Joy asked, noticing.

Luna turned the screen toward her. “Tell me why I’m seeing this now.”

Joy leaned in. One look—and she exhaled sharply. “Oh. That.”

Luna’s voice sharpened. “That?”

“It’s been everywhere,” Joy said, almost bored. “You’re just late.” On the screen was a polished announcement. Bright, celebratory. Smiling faces. Kelvin and Vera. Engaged. Soon to be married.

Luna sat up straighter. “You’re telling me this has been out and no one thought to—”

“Tell you?” Joy shrugged. “You would’ve reacted exactly like this.”

“Because it’s insane!”

Mrs. Janny didn’t turn around. But you could feel it—she heard every word.

Luna stood, pacing slightly. “Her best friend? Seriously? Of all people?”

Joy leaned back. “Some men specialize in being useless. It’s like a career path.” That almost earned a smile. Almost.

Luna glanced toward their mother—and that’s when she saw it. Not tears. Not even anger. Just… something quieter. And somehow heavier. That’s when Luna’s expression changed. Not softer—sharper, but in a different way. Like something clicked. “Okay,” she said slowly. “I have an idea.”

Joy raised an eyebrow. “That tone worries me.”

“We support the wedding.”

Silence. Mrs. Janny turned slightly. “No.” Immediate. Firm.

But Luna didn’t stop. “Not like that,” she said, stepping closer. “Think about it. Everyone expects drama. Pain. Reaction.”

Joy tilted her head, catching on. “So we don’t give them that.”

“Exactly.”

Mrs. Janny shook her head. “I’m not playing games.”

“It’s not a game,” Luna insisted. “It’s control. You send something,” she continued. “Something so big, so unexpected… they won’t be able to ignore it.”

Joy leaned forward now. “And it messes with their heads.”

Luna nodded. “They hurt you. This reminds them.”

Mrs. Janny didn’t respond immediately. But she didn’t shut it down again either.

The wedding came and went. Perfect on the outside. Smiles. Applause. Carefully curated happiness. Then came the gifts. Among them—a key. Sleek. Heavy. Expensive even at a glance. And documents. Ownership papers.

Kelvin frowned slightly, unfolding them. Then froze. “…No way.”

Vera leaned in. “What is it?”

His voice dropped. “It’s a car.”

“Okay…?”

He looked up slowly. “Not just any car.” The location was listed. They went. And there it was. One of his dream cars. The kind he had talked about for years. The kind that felt just out of reach. Until now.

He walked toward it like he was being pulled. Opened the door. Sat inside. Hands on the wheel. Then he saw it. A small card. Simple. Direct. From Mrs. Janny.

The air shifted. Vera crossed her arms. “Return it.”

He didn’t move.

“I’m serious,” she continued. “This isn’t normal.”

Still nothing.

“Kelvin.”

He exhaled slowly. “Do you know what this is?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “A manipulation.”

“No,” he said quietly. “This is something you don’t throw away.”

That hit a nerve. “Of course you’d say that,” Vera replied. “It’s expensive.”

He turned to her then. And what he said next? It wasn’t careful. “Can you even buy something like this?” he asked. “Even for yourself?”

Silence. Not the soft kind. The sharp kind. Vera stared at him. Really stared this time. Like she was seeing something she hadn’t fully noticed before. “Are you serious?”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. And just like that, something shifted. Not loudly. Not dramatically. But permanently. Because now, it wasn’t just about the past anymore. Now it was personal.