My BFF has 3 kids, and I babysat all the time. 2 weeks ago, her 4-year-old suddenly said, “Auntie Lena, Mom took your wallet. She said not to tell.” I checked, and nothing was missing.
Later, I confronted her. She went pale and, to my shock, said, “Fine. You’d find out anyway.
I’m sorry.”
I blinked at her. “You’re… sorry?”
She didn’t even try to deny it. “I only took it because I needed it.
I put it back before you noticed, didn’t I?” Her tone was defensive, like I should be grateful she returned it. I was standing in her kitchen, still holding the cup of tea she’d handed me earlier, and suddenly, everything felt wrong. This was Marla.
My best friend since high school. We’d gone through heartbreaks, new jobs, weddings, even miscarriages together. And now she was stealing from me?
She must’ve seen the look on my face because she quickly added, “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t mean to steal it. I just… borrowed twenty to get diapers.
I swear I put it back the next day.”
It was such a weird thing to say. Borrowed. Without asking.
From my wallet. While I was babysitting her kids. “Why didn’t you just ask me?” I asked, trying not to sound hurt.
“You know I’d help if you were struggling.”
She looked away, brushing toast crumbs off the counter. “Because you already do too much. You babysit, you bring groceries, you pay for the occasional takeaway.
I didn’t want to be more of a burden.”
I was quiet for a moment. “Then why take the money at all?”
Her lips trembled. “Because things are bad, Lena.
Really bad.”
And just like that, the wall crumbled. Marla confessed her electricity had been cut off the week before. Her husband, Gavin, had lost his job months ago but was too proud to tell anyone.
Their benefits were delayed due to some admin error. She’d been rationing food and using candles after dark so the kids wouldn’t know. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I whispered.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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