Family Landlords Raise the Rent to Force One Sister Out

I set my laptop bag on the counter, my finger automatically reaching for the silver dial of my wrist watch to turn it back and forth. “I did not know you cooked, Vanessa.”

“I can do plenty of things when I want to,” she said, slipping the sunglasses down over her eyes and then immediately pushing them back up to rest on her head. “I know things have been difficult since I got here, Lauren, and I want to make it up to you.”

She turned back to the stove and stirred the red sauce with slow, deliberate circles, the steam rising around her face.

“I bought the good pasta from the market down the street,” she added, her voice dropping into a soft, confidential register that felt entirely practiced. “The nine-dollar imported kind.”

I watched her hand steady the pot, wondering how much of our shared household budget she had spent to buy her peace offering. “Where did you get the money for nine-dollar pasta, Vanessa?”

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  • Andrew Collins is a contributor who enjoys writing about everyday topics, people, and ideas that spark curiosity. His approach is simple and conversational, aiming to make stories easy to read and relatable. Outside of writing, Andrew follows current trends, enjoys long walks, and likes turning small observations into meaningful stories.

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