The hot, late-summer air smelled of warm pavement and cut grass as I handed my keys to Lisa, my neighbor of eight years.
“Just water the plants, check the mail,” I said with a tired smile, loading my luggage.
Her salt-and-pepper hair glowed in the evening light as she hugged me. “Good luck with the deal—see you in a month!”
Everything went great at first in Seattle: meetings, lunches, clients impressed—until they pushed back on price. By day four, they canceled. My boss called: the client wouldn’t budge, so I was let go.
Defeated, I flew home early. Pulling into my driveway at sunset, I was stunned to see a stranger’s minivan there. Inside, a family dined happily.
Rushing to Lisa’s, I banged on her door. She confessed: while I was away, she’d been renting my house on vacation sites—for a year.
Betrayed, I demanded the profits—about \$15K. One week later, I took the money and ended our friendship.
I used the funds plus savings to buy a small apartment and professionally listed my house for rent—on my terms. Within months, I was profitable, independent.
Now, I see Lisa from time to time, but I don’t wave. The betrayal taught me resilience—and led me to build something better than before.