Louie leaned against the second-floor window, looking down at the ground. His sister, Mia, hung clothes, her steps stiff, her quietness more deafening than any shout. It had been months since they had last exchanged a word—months since their mother died and left them with the house and a parcel of land that was meant to bind the family together. Instead, it had driven them apart.
Initially, the arguments were petty. Louie was demanding his portion of the property, citing that it was his due as the eldest. Mia, however, insisted that she had been the one taking care of their mother during her last years. "I sacrificed everything," she said. "I deserve this house more than you."
Louie snorted at the memory. As though he had not worked hard to take care of their mother, sending remittances back home whenever he could. As though his efforts did not count.
The house walls became battlefronts. Louie occupied the second floor. Mia occupied the ground floor. They tried to avoid one another as much as possible, talking only through acrimonious notes on the dining table. The unspoken anger, resentment, and ghosts of warm childhood memories no longer present hung in the silence between them.
It didn't end with them. Their families became involved. Mia's husband sneered at Louie whenever they met. Louie's wife whispered in his ear at night, "Don't let them push you out of what's yours." The happy home was transformed into a battlefield, with slamming doors, accusations, and threats of lawsuits hanging over their heads like a storm about to break.
One evening, Louie's patience finally broke. He rushed downstairs, pounding on Mia's door. She opened it, her eyes icy.
"We have to put this to rest," he said, his voice trembling.
"Put it to rest?" Mia gave a scathing laugh. "You want me to give up everything so you can have it all?"
Louie balled his fists. "That's not what I said."
"So what are you saying, Louie?" Mia's voice trembled. "Because from my perspective, this isn't about fairness. This is about greed."
"Greed?" Louie's rage spilled over. "You don't think I deserve this house too? I was raised here just like you!"
"You left!" Mia retorted. "I stayed. I was the one who cared for Mama. I was the one who ensured she never felt alone. You remembered this house only when it suited you.
Louie said nothing. Perhaps a part of him understood she was right. But the pain was too profound, the betrayal too raw.
They stood there, looking at one another—two individuals who once shared secrets, who once guarded one another, now two enemies battling for bricks and wood.
And in that instant, Louie knew something.
The house had already won.
It had taken their love, their bond, their family. It had made them strangers.
And whoever received whatever they received in the end, both of them had already lost.
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