My sister kept walking around my husband wearing only a towel and called it a “test”—then one day, he did something that made her turn bright red. When my younger sister Kayla called me sobbing after her boyfriend of six years kicked her out, I didn’t hesitate. She had two suitcases, under $300, and nowhere to go.

For three more days, nothing changed.

Kayla continued her behavior.

Every morning, she appeared downstairs in the same kind of outfit.

Every morning, Andrew became increasingly distant.

He stopped sitting in the kitchen.

He drank his coffee in another room.

He left earlier.

He avoided being alone with her.

But Kayla seemed to interpret his discomfort as part of the game.

She even joked about it.

“Andrew sure is shy.”

I didn’t respond.

On Saturday night, I finally told Andrew:

“I think she needs to leave.”

He nodded.

“I agree.”

But neither of us knew what Sunday morning would bring.

## Sunday Morning

It was quiet.

Sunlight came through the kitchen windows.

Andrew sat at the table with his coffee.

I was preparing breakfast.

For a few minutes, everything felt normal.

Then Kayla appeared.

Again.

She walked downstairs wearing only a towel.

I closed my eyes briefly.

Not again.

I was about to speak.

Andrew touched my arm.

“Don’t.”

I looked at him.

“What?”

He stood up.

“It’s my turn.”

There was something different in his voice.

Not anger.

Not shouting.

Just certainty.