Chapter 5: Boundaries and Betrayals

I didn’t want to answer, but I sighed and picked up.

I braced myself, putting on my best polite voice. No point in giving her any ammunition.

“Riley, what’s going on between you and Marissa? Why did you upset her again? You’re older—can’t you let her have her way?”

Same old story. Her tone was scolding, disappointed. Like I’d broken some unspoken rule of childhood friendship. I gripped the phone tighter, trying not to lose my cool.

It was Marissa Lane’s mom.

No wonder Marissa turned out like that. She’d always been the ringleader, the one who taught Marissa that boundaries were for other people. I’d spent my whole life trying to please them, and where had it gotten me?

For years, Marissa had trampled my boundaries, mostly because her mom always egged her on.

It never ended. I remembered sleepovers where my toys disappeared, birthday parties where my gifts ended up in Marissa’s hands. Her mom would just shrug and say it was only fair, since I was older.

When I was little, she’d constantly remind me that Marissa was younger, so I should let her have things.

Didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that I’d saved up my allowance, or that the toy was a gift from my grandparents. If Marissa wanted it, it was hers. That was the rule.

If Marissa so much as glanced at my snacks or toys, her mom would swoop in and pack them up without a word.

As if that made it okay. No discussion, no compromise. She’d just smile at my parents and say, “It’s only right—Riley’s the big kid.”

“Marissa likes it, so I’m taking it. Your family doesn’t lack for these things anyway, and you’re older—you should let her have them.”

Hard to forget. The words still echoed in my mind, as if they’d been branded there. I’d spent years trying to unlearn the lesson that my needs didn’t matter.

Since the adults had spoken and the stuff was already packed, my own parents—too polite to argue—never said a word.

Never made up for it. They’d just smile awkwardly, ushering Marissa and her mom out the door, promising me a treat later. But the damage was done. I learned early that being nice only made you a target.

Over the years, Marissa and her mom only got worse.

It was always about them. Entitlement became their default mode. If they wanted something, they took it. If you objected, you were selfish, ungrateful, or worse—disloyal.

Marissa’s dad always hoped she’d be grateful and remember where she came from.

Too bad it didn’t rub off. He was a kind man, always talking about family, about giving back. But Marissa had never learned gratitude. She took and took, never once saying thank you.

Not once. To her, kindness was weakness. She expected it, demanded it, and never gave anything in return. It was exhausting.

And her mom? She was even worse.

Scary, in her own way. If Marissa was a hurricane, her mom was the eye of the storm—calm, calculating, and just as destructive.

“Marissa told me she wants to stay at your place after fighting with her boyfriend. You’d better move out for a few days. Otherwise, if another girl hears there’s a woman living in your house, she won’t want to be with you. I’m just looking out for you.”

Unreal. The audacity left me speechless. She was trying to spin it like she was doing me a favor, when really, she just wanted her daughter to have her way. I almost laughed at the absurdity.

I couldn’t believe anyone could be this shameless.

Not happening. I stared at the phone, jaw clenched. Was she for real? Did she really think I’d just hand over my apartment because Marissa wanted it?

“Don’t worry, Aunt Linda. That won’t be a problem. I’ve already decided—if Marissa tries to move in, I’ll call the police and report an intruder. No other girl will get the wrong idea.”

Never again. I kept my tone polite, but there was steel underneath. I was done being their doormat.

“Call the police?” she shrieked. “She’s your little sister—you grew up together! You’d call the cops just because she wants to stay for a few days?”

About time. Her outrage was almost comical. She couldn’t believe I’d finally drawn a line. I imagined her pacing her kitchen, clutching the phone like a lifeline.

“Sorry, Aunt Linda, but I don’t have a sister. My mom only had one son.” I replied coldly, then hung up.

Felt good. I felt a surge of satisfaction as I ended the call. For the first time in years, I’d stood up for myself.

I waited, knowing she’d run to my parents to complain. And, knowing my parents, they’d probably try to talk me into giving in.

Wasn’t backing down. I paced my apartment, rehearsing my arguments, ready for the guilt trip I knew was coming. But when my phone finally rang, it wasn’t what I expected.

I’d already prepared my arguments, but when my mom called, her first words were:

“You don’t have to let her stay.”

Didn’t expect that. Her voice was soft, but there was a firmness there I’d never heard before. I blinked, caught off guard by her support.

“Mom?” I asked, surprised.

This was new. I couldn’t hide the disbelief in my voice. My mom had always been the peacekeeper, the one who urged me to forgive and forget.

“Yeah, don’t worry about us. Just take care of yourself.”

Maybe things were changing. She sounded tired, maybe even sad. I wondered if she’d finally seen Marissa and her mom for who they really were.

Her voice sounded choked. I wanted to ask more, but she hung up.

Something was different. There was a pause, then the line went dead. I stared at the phone, questions swirling in my mind.

“We have guests—talk later,” she texted.

Couldn’t figure it out. The message popped up a moment later, short and to the point. I stared at it, trying to read between the lines, but came up empty.

Staring at her message, I felt a strange unease rise inside me.

Didn’t trust it yet. It was a feeling I couldn’t shake—like something big had shifted, and I was standing on the edge of something new. Maybe for the first time, I wasn’t alone.

But right now, the most important thing was shaking off Marissa Lane.

My place. My rules. I set my phone down, took a deep breath, and looked around my apartment. It was time to reclaim my life, one boundary at a time.

Tomorrow, I’d make sure the door stayed shut.