I hesitated for a moment but accepted it. Almost instantly, a message popped up.
[Brother-in-law, my sister asked me to come live with you. Do you want to help me move?]
It was followed by a voice message. Alice’s voice came through, nonchalant and commanding.
"Adam, you don’t need to come over. Just go home and pack up the second bedroom for Mike. You can move into the other one. Mike gets cold easily and your room gets the morning sun—it’s better for him."
I blinked, staring at my phone in disbelief. I wasn’t afraid of the cold. And yet, she had spoken as if her decision was final, as if I had no say in my own home. I let out a laugh—cold, sharp and filled with nothing but anger.
I hadn't responded for more than a minute when Alice called.
"Don't play dead. Did you hear what I said? Are you refusing to move into the north room? You should see the tiny partitioned space Mike is living in—he's way worse off than you."
"If I come back and you haven’t packed up, I’ll throw your stuff out myself. Don’t get mad at me then!"
It was hard to believe that these words came from someone I'd known for over twenty years, yet they were real. I took a deep breath. "Fine, let him move in."