We all thought Yelena was finding her footing again after the divorce. She’d gotten a sharp new haircut, wore a stylish vintage dress, and even got her teenagers to smile for a “just us three” photo in front of the old parish hall. But something about the moment didn’t sit right with me.
The kids’ expressions were too forced. Maren, especially—she usually gives closed-lip smirks, but in this picture, she was grinning wide. And Stellan had one arm tucked behind him, clearly hiding something. I didn’t say anything at the time. Just took the picture, sent it to Yelena, and moved on.
Later that day, I wandered back to the same spot while on a phone call. As I paced under the big tree, something caught my eye—wedged into the crook of the trunk at eye level was a sealed manila envelope.
My name was scrawled across the front.
Inside were seven crisp $50 bills, a blurry printout from a pharmacy’s security camera, and a small note that read:
“She doesn’t know we took it. But we had to.”
My stomach twisted.
I stared at the contents, trying to process them. The photo was printed in black and white, clearly from a security feed, dated two weeks prior. It showed someone handing over cash at a pharmacy counter, hood pulled up, head turned.
I squinted closer.
It was Maren. Wearing Yelena’s gray coat.
It didn’t feel possible. Maren had just turned fifteen. She still wore goofy socks with avocados on them, read fantasy books out loud in the car, and hummed along to K-pop while doing dishes. The idea of her stealing—let alone working with Stellan to plan something like this—felt impossible.
I tried calling Yelena.
No answer. She was probably still inside finishing the bake sale setup. Through the window of the parish hall, I spotted Stellan darting between tables, laying out cupcakes.
I tucked the envelope into my coat pocket.
That night, I paced our living room restlessly. My partner, Nico, asked me what was going on. I couldn’t tell him. Not yet.
I didn’t know what the money was for. I didn’t know what they meant by “we had to.”
And most of all—I couldn’t stop wondering how long the kids had been hiding this from Yelena. Or why they had chosen me to find it.
The next morning, I showed up at their house pretending I was just dropping off a casserole dish.
Maren answered. She looked exhausted.
I asked if I could come in for a moment. She hesitated, then stepped aside.
Yelena was at work. Stellan was upstairs. I didn’t waste time.
“I found something under the tree,” I said quietly. “It had my name on it.”
Maren froze.
She didn’t ask what I meant. Her face just drained of color. Wordlessly, she dropped down onto the arm of the couch.