I spent the next three days at my coastal cabin in absolute luxury.
I got massages, walked along the beach, read my books, and enjoyed delicious seafood dinners, completely disconnected from the drama back home.
On Monday afternoon, the holiday weekend officially ended.
I drove back to the city feeling refreshed, relaxed, and completely peaceful.
When I pulled up to my house, I unlocked the front door using my smartphone app, walked inside, and set my suitcase in the foyer.
The house was clean, quiet, and exactly as I had left it.
10 minutes later, the front door opened, and Jordan walked in.
He looked like he hadn’t slept in 4 days.
He was wearing the same clothes he had left in on Tuesday. His eyes were bloodshot and he was carrying a small duffel bag.
He stopped in the entryway looking at me sitting on the living room sofa.
“Sandra,” Jordan said, his voice quiet and completely broken.
“Hello, Jordan,” I said, setting my teacup down.
“How was your New Year’s weekend?”
Jordan walked into the living room and collapsed into the armchair across from me, burying his face in his hands.
“It was a complete nightmare,” Jordan confessed, his voice trembling. “My mother spent $2,000 on hotel rooms.”
“My aunt and cousins left this morning without even saying goodbye to her because they were so angry about the whole trip. My mother has been screaming at me on the phone for 48 hours, calling me a failure of a son.”
He looked up at me, tears forming in his eyes.
“And the worst part is she blames you. She says, ‘You did this on purpose to humiliate her.’”