StoriesBlog 
It was a “Summer Friday” in their downtown Chicago office, and the day was supposed to be short. The moment the clock hit 3 PM, Sarah’s colleagues were a blur of motion, grabbing messenger bags and racing for the elevators, eager to start the weekend.
But Sarah was stuck. Her ancient, company-issued Dell was frozen on the shutdown screen, spinning that little blue circle endlessly.
By the time she finally managed to force it off, she was the last one leaving the building. Her husband, Matt, couldn’t pick her up. His boss had called an “emergency” meeting back in the Loop, one that Matt absolutely had to be in.
Matt’s boss couldn’t seem to make a decision without him. It seemed strange to Sarah, but Matt, if he was honest, kind of liked being “the guy.”
Sarah decided against grabbing an Uber in the surge pricing. Instead, she took the ‘L’ train north and decided to walk the last few blocks to their condo in Lakeview.
Because of the delay, she got home much later than planned.
The moment she unlocked the front door, something felt off. She was hit by a strong, unfamiliar scent in the small entryway. It wasn’t Matt’s usual scent; this was a heavy, musky cologne, like something trying way too hard. She sniffed the air again, but just as quickly, the smell vanished.
She looked around. Everything seemed normal. Even her good gold hoops, which she’d carelessly left by the mirror, were still sitting right there.
– “Well, definitely not a burglar!” she said aloud, trying to shake off the weird feeling.
She forgot about it, took a long shower, dried her hair, and went to the kitchen to heat up dinner. When Sarah opened the refrigerator, her eyes landed on an almost-empty package of hot dogs.
She knew that package had been full yesterday. Now, there were only three left.
It was strange. Why would Matt, after getting home, eat plain hot dogs when there was leftover chicken stir-fry and a fresh salad—his favorites—right there? It just wasn’t like him.
She set the table for one and ate alone. Matt got home late, looking exhausted. He skipped dinner, explaining the meeting had moved to a steakhouse downtown and he was stuffed.
Sarah didn’t bother asking about the hot dogs.
Over the next week, Sarah started noticing other small, unsettling things. Things that suggested someone had been in their home while they were out.
First, she noticed the blinds in the living room were tilted at a different angle than she always left them. Then, she found the bestseller she’d left face-down on the coffee table was now closed and sitting on a different stack of magazines.
A few more times, she noticed the towels in the bathroom had been used differently. There were water spots on the chrome faucet that hadn’t been there in the morning. Her bottles of cosmetics on the vanity were slightly rearranged. One morning, her hairbrush was on the floor by the hamper.
These little details began to pile up, putting Sarah on edge.
Every time she found one of these tiny inconsistencies, she tried to find a logical explanation, but the suspicion was growing. A little voice in her head told her to pay closer attention, to figure out what was really going on.
That weekend, the two of them drove up to Lake Geneva for a quick getaway. They didn’t get back until Sunday evening.
Tired from the drive, Sarah immediately went to the laundry closet to start a load of clothes. When she opened the washing machine, she froze.
The drum was wet. It was impossible. They hadn’t been home for two days. It was as if someone had just finished a cycle.
– “Matt… I sometimes feel like someone is in our apartment when we’re not here,” Sarah said quietly, looking around the living room.
– “What? What do you mean?” he asked, confused.
– “I don’t know,” she said, shrugging. “It’s just… a feeling.”
She told him about everything. The moved book, the hot dogs, the water spots, and now the washer.
– “Your parents have a spare key, right? But why would they drive 40 minutes in from Naperville? To eat hot dogs and do laundry? Their machine is brand new.”
– “Maybe…” Matt agreed, looking thoughtful.
– “It’s just so weird,” she whispered.
– “Honey, maybe you’re just imagining it?” Matt asked gently. “You’ve been pulling 12-hour shifts at the firm. It’s got to be the stress acting up.”
– “I don’t know,” Sarah said, shaking her head. “But that machine was definitely used.”
– “We must have used it before we left,” Matt offered.
– “It would be bone-dry after two whole days,” she insisted.
Matt sighed. He usually got home from his finance job later than she did; he never noticed any changes in the apartment.
– “You think… you think it’s my mom?” he asked carefully.
– “Who else could it be?” Sarah replied.
– “Honey!” Matt said, “She flew to Phoenix to see her sister three days ago. She physically couldn’t have used it. And my dad… he wouldn’t get off the sofa during a Bears game, let alone drive into the city to cook or clean.”
Sarah frowned, thinking. If his mom, Evelyn, was really out of town, she couldn’t have come. And his dad, Walter, genuinely didn’t seem to care what they did.
Walter was strange about his sons. He was almost completely indifferent to Matt, his younger son.
But Walter adored his older son, Alex. Alex was the golden boy. He had moved to San Francisco, made it big in tech, had a high salary, a new Tesla, and his own condo in the Bay Area. Walter never missed a chance to brag about Alex’s success.
And he never missed a chance to imply Matt was a failure in comparison.
It was crazy, because Matt was the opposite of a failure. He’d never asked his parents for money, was never unemployed, had no bad habits, and never broke the law. He didn’t cause them problems as a kid, and he didn’t cause them problems now. When they needed help, they always called Matt, and he always showed up.
He had a good job, a reliable car, and they’d just renovated their kitchen. But for Walter, none of that mattered. Matt hadn’t “achieved” anything.
The next day, Sarah went to wash her hair and saw that her favorite Olaplex conditioner was completely empty. She knew for a fact that the bottle had been at least half-full before their weekend trip.
– “Matt… did you use my $30 conditioner?” Sarah asked, her eyes narrowing.
– “What? No,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Are you still looking for the apartment ghost?”
– “I am not,” she snapped, losing her patience. “I just know there was half a bottle left, and now it’s gone!”
Matt sighed heavily, a flash of irritation on his face. He was finding it harder and harder to understand her suspicions. He was positive no one else was in their apartment. It seemed impossible.
If it were thieves, why would they steal shampoo and hot dogs but leave her gold earrings? If it was his parents, why would they drive all the way across the suburbs just to use their shower? He couldn’t find a single logical explanation.
– “Sarah!” he started, trying to soften his tone. “If it’s really one of our relatives, maybe we should just… talk to them? But honestly, honey, I just think you’re overworked. This whole idea seems so unlikely.”
Kristin frowned. “I just want to figure out what’s happening,” she said.
Later, Matt called his mom, Evelyn, in Phoenix. She swore she hadn’t been to their apartment in weeks, and she sounded completely sincere.
When he asked his father, Walter just scoffed and pointed to his own head in the “you’re crazy” gesture.
– “I always told you, Matt. Women are nothing but problems,” Walter grumbled. “You should be more like your brother. Alex is smart. He’s free. No one is messing with his head.”
Evelyn, who was on the speakerphone, sighed sadly. Matt, feeling the conversation was pointless, just hung up.
A few hours later, Sarah found the final clue. In the shower, she noticed a small, slimy trace of her expensive conditioner on the white tile wall, as if someone had spilled it and tried to quickly rinse it away.
Matt absolutely denied doing it, and she believed him. But if it wasn’t him… who was it?
While Matt was secretly Googling therapists in their area, worried about how to help his wife with her growing anxiety, Sarah was inspecting the apartment again.
– “Matt,” she said that evening, “I don’t feel comfortable here anymore. I feel like someone else is in our apartment. And it’s not my imagination.”
Matt looked at her, really looked at her, and saw the genuine fear in her eyes.
– “Okay,” he said finally. “Okay. What if… what if we install a Ring camera? A simple indoor cam. Then we will know, for sure, what’s happening.”
Sarah nodded, feeling a small wave of relief. A camera would prove it.
She slowly walked through their apartment, checking every corner, hoping to find one more thing that would explain her anxiety. But every time, everything was in its place. Sarah started to wonder if maybe she was paranoid.
But just when she started to calm down, two days later, she found something else.
A fingerprint. On the hallway mirror, there was a large, oily thumbprint. It was way too large to belong to her, and Matt’s hands were smaller.
– “Matt, look. A smudge on the mirror,” she called him over. “Are you still going to argue with me? That’s not your print, and it’s not mine.”
– “Kristin, come on. One of our friends could have left it,” he tried, his patience wearing thin.
– “We haven’t had anyone over since Labor Day. I cleaned this mirror two weeks ago. It wasn’t there.”
Matt let out a long, slow sigh.
– “Honey… maybe we should go see a doctor,” he suggested, as gently as he could.
– “You think I’m crazy?” she asked, her voice small, a knot of hurt tightening in her stomach.
– “No! Not… not crazy,” Matt said slowly. “But maybe this is becoming an obsessive thought. We need to do something before it gets worse.”
– “Got it,” Sarah said, turning away. She was absolutely certain of what she was seeing, and the fact that her own husband didn’t believe her hurt more than anything.
He insisted, and he made an appointment for her with a therapist.
At the appointment, the doctor listened patiently. He asked questions. He was polite and understanding, which calmed Sarah down a little.
– “I understand your anxiety,” the therapist said softly, writing on a notepad. “Sometimes, stress and fatigue can cause intrusive thoughts. I’m going to write you a prescription for a low-dose medication. It will help you calm down and relax.”
Sarah nodded and took the prescription. She still doubted it was “just stress,” but she decided to try it, just to prove she wasn’t losing her mind.
It didn’t get better. She just stopped telling Matt about the things she found. And she decided to act on her own.
For several days in a row, she told her boss she had a migraine and left work early.
She came home hours before she was supposed to, hoping to catch the uninvited guest in the act. But every time, she was met with ringing silence.
On the fourth day, as she left the office, she swore to herself that if she found nothing today, she would go back to the doctor and take the pills.
Sarah quietly unlocked her apartment door.
And she heard it. The sound of the shower running in the bathroom.
She glanced at the shoe rack by the door and saw a pair of unfamiliar, scuffed men’s work boots.
“Those are not Matt’s,” she whispered to herself. “I’m not paranoid. There is a truth, and it’s being hidden from me.”
She decided not to burst into the bathroom. Instead, she walked silently into the living room, sat down on the sofa, and waited.
A few minutes later, the water shut off. She heard the bathroom door open.
She stood up and walked into the hallway, almost colliding with Matt’s brother, Alex.
– “You?” Sarah gasped. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Alex looked terrified and confused. He was wearing an old college t-shirt and expensive, but rumpled, slacks. His hair was soaking wet and stuck to his forehead.
– “Sarah… Sarah, I can explain,” Alex said, his eyes dropping to the floor in shame.
– “You better start,” she said, her voice shaking. “I thought I was losing my mind. Even Matt doesn’t know.”
– “He really doesn’t,” Alex said quietly. “Nobody knows I’m here. Except Mom.”
Alex had always been the person who lived with the crushing weight of expectations. As the older son, the golden boy, he had spent his entire life trying to meet their father’s ambitions.
Every step he took was haunted by that invisible, critical gaze. It didn’t matter what he achieved—a new contract, a new car—it was never enough. Alex was terrified of failing the “ideal” that his father had built in his head.
That fear had become the engine of his life.
He worked without rest, even when his San Francisco startup began to crack. But instead of admitting his mistakes, he desperately tried to maintain the illusion of success.
He was terrified of the judgment, but more than that, he was terrified of himself—of who he would be if he admitted he had failed. “If I just tell the truth, everything will fall apart…” He hid from reality, hoping it would all just fix itself.
But the days spent hiding in his brother’s apartment brought no relief. Every minute he spent there only amplified his guilt and shame.
Sarah looked at Alex. He had always seemed tired to her, but now he looked completely drained.
– “Why the big secret?” she asked. “Mom gave you the key?”
He nodded. “I couldn’t go to their place.”
– “If you didn’t want to live with them, why didn’t you just ask us to stay here?” Sarah didn’t understand.
– “I’ll tell you,” Alex said, “but you have to promise me that Dad and Matt won’t find out.”
– “Are you hiding from someone? From creditors?”
– “No,” Alex said. “I don’t owe anyone. Not anymore.”
He sighed and began his story. He confessed that his startup had been failing for years. He’d finally had to shut it down and sell everything—the condo, the Tesla—just to pay off his investors and his debts.
– “You see,” he said, “if it wasn’t for my ego, I wouldn’t be in this mess. I should have cut my expenses, downsized. But I couldn’t take a step back. That would have meant I failed.”
– “Right,” Sarah said sarcastically. “You never lose.”
– “Yeah. I couldn’t let my friends, my dad, and my brother see me as a failure,” Alex continued. “It was easier to pretend everything was fine.”
– “You risked everything just so no one would think you were weak?” Sarah asked, angry now. “Then I have bad news for you, Alex. You don’t have any real friends.”
He sighed and gave a sad smile. “Maybe not. The thing is, even big companies have crises. What’s so shameful about that? But I just… kept up the act.”
– “Is that crown of yours getting heavy?” Sarah snapped.
Alex looked genuinely hurt.
– “So what’s the plan now? You’re just going to live here? Stealing my hot dogs?”
– “I’m trying to figure out what to do,” Alex said. “But I’m ashamed. I’m so ashamed to face Dad and Matt.”
– “But you’re not ashamed to sneak into their apartment?”
– “I am ashamed!” Alex shot back. “I feel such deep shame for the position I’m in. But I can’t face my father. He’s so proud of me… and I’m… I’m not who he thinks I am. I was never that successful. My startup always had problems. I was completely drowning in debt, constantly robbing Peter to pay Paul, just to keep up the appearance of stability. If Dad finds out I lost everything and I’m looking for a job… it’ll be a total disgrace.”
– “You’d rather live a fake life just to please him?” Sarah shook her head.
– “No, it’s not just that. Mom will accept me no matter what. But Dad… he needs me to be something.”
– “Be what?” Sarah asked. “Are we royalty? The Kennedys?”
Alex let out a loud breath. “No. We’re a normal family. We were poor. My dad never achieved anything. He never even tried. He went to his 9-to-5, never took a side hustle, just worked his hours. He wasn’t bothered by how poor we were. Mom was always looking for extra work, and he would just sit in front of the TV or read a book. He never taught us anything, but he always laughed when we failed at something.”
– “I’ve heard stories like that,” Sarah said, shrugging. “I just don’t get why you’re so afraid of his judgment. You’ve already achieved more than he ever did.”
– “And I lost it all,” Alex said. “I’m renting the cheapest room I could find… an SRO downtown. It doesn’t even have a laundry room. I’m living on money Mom is wiring me. I came back to Chicago with one suitcase.”
– “And that suitcase included that awful cologne,” Sarah said. “I smelled it the second I walked in.”
Alex actually laughed. “Truthfully, it’s terrible,” Sarah confirmed.
They stood in silence for a moment.
– “Why don’t you want to tell Matt?” Sarah asked. “He could help you with a job. He has connections.”
– “Ask my little brother for a handout? No. I can’t do that.”
– “But you can break into his apartment without permission?” Sarah’s anger was rising again.
– “Stop, I’m ashamed,” Alex pleaded. “I really am. But if I tell Matt the truth… then he’ll be right.”
– “Right about what? Everything? About how to live a real life? About how I wasted my time on nothing? Oh, God,” Sarah said, rolling her eyes.
– “I envy him,” Alex admitted. “He has a life. A real one. For years, I just built an image. Because of my own stubbornness and ego, I lost everything I saved. And now I’m standing in my little brother’s hallway realizing that I never had anything valuable. It was all just… dust.”
Alex paused. “Please,” he said. “Don’t tell Matt I’m back.”
Sarah crossed her arms and looked at him. “I hope Matt can help you see the situation clearly,” she said. “You have to stop being this… invisible ghost… and start a normal life. Yes, starting over is hard, but it’s better than being stuck on this mistake. There’s no point in hiding. You can’t run from yourself.”
Later, during the conversation between the two brothers, Sarah watched Alex. He kept trying to catch some emotion on Matt’s face—judgment, laughter, anything.
But finding nothing, he just kept talking.
Matt wasn’t going to laugh at him. He wasn’t going to use hurtful words or humiliate him.
– “If you want,” Matt offered, “you can stay with us. The sofa pulls out. Sarah’s fine with it. Find a job, get on your feet, and then you can move out.”
– “Seriously?” Alex looked shocked.
– “Of course,” Matt nodded. “What did you expect? That I’d laugh at you?”
– “I thought you’d judge me,” Alex admitted.
– “I’m only judging you for giving my wife a nervous breakdown,” Matt said. “I genuinely started to think she was developing paranoia. I was this close to checking her into a hospital.”
– “I’m sorry,” Alex looked down. “By the way, you have an amazing wife. She’s… wise. If she hadn’t caught me, I’d probably still be hiding. …Dad, though. He’s definitely going to say I’m a loser.”
– “Let him,” Matt shrugged. “He says it all the time anyway. So what? We live with it. You know, for a long time, I thought you were the failure. Especially when you came back from college and then left for San Francisco. I couldn’t understand why you’d chase a pipe dream. But then, seeing you… I actually started to envy you.”
Matt smiled. For the first time in years, the brothers were talking honestly.
Walter, their father, reacted to his son’s return with his usual coldness. He made a few sharp remarks and added a couple of demeaning comments. He said he was disappointed and went back to watching TV.
Now, he doesn’t brag about his older son. More and more, in conversations with friends, he mentions his younger son. Matt, once considered the failure, had gradually become a worthy successor in his eyes.
Soon, Alex found a job. He rented his own apartment in Wicker Park and moved out of his brother’s place. Slowly, he stopped worrying about his lost status or the fact that his father no longer considered him “successful.”
He was no longer living someone else’s life.
There are things in life more important than status, the size of your wallet, or what other people think. The main thing is to realize that before you’re reduced to sneaking into your brother’s apartment just to use the shower.
Author’s Commentary: The Ghosts We Create
When I first started writing this story, it began as a simple mystery: the unsettling feeling of someone being in your home. The initial tension is built from the mundane—a missing hot dog, a moved book, an empty bottle of conditioner. These are the small details that, when displaced, can make a person question their own senses.
The story’s engine isn’t a malicious intruder but the psychological “ghosts” that haunt this family: the crushing weight of expectation, the shame of perceived failure, and the roles we are forced to play.
The Anxiety of the Unexplained
The story is told almost entirely from Sarah’s perspective. This was a deliberate narrative choice. I wanted the reader to be locked in her point of view, to feel her growing anxiety as her observations are dismissed, first by herself and then by her husband, Matt.
This isn’t a story about paranoia, but about the conflict between perception and reality. Sarah is a logical person, but the evidence she finds is so bizarre that even she struggles to accept it. When Matt, her partner, gently suggests she’s overworked or needs to see a doctor, it isolates her. Her struggle becomes less about the “ghost” and more about the terrifying possibility that her own mind is the one betraying her. This is a classic element of domestic suspense: the sanctuary of the home becomes the source of the threat, and the protagonist’s credibility is undermined.
The Two Brothers: A Study in Foils
The heart of the story is the contrast between the two brothers, Matt and Alex. They are classic literary foils—characters designed to highlight each other’s qualities through opposition.
- Alex, the “Golden Boy”: He is the embodiment of image. His entire identity is built on his father’s definition of success: the tech startup, the Tesla, the high-status life. His core motivation is not greed but a deep-seated fear of his father’s judgment. This fear is so powerful that he would rather become a ghost—sneaking into his brother’s home to eat and shower—than face the “shame” of admitting his authentic self. His failure isn’t financial; it’s a failure of courage.
- Matt, the “Underachiever”: He represents substance. In his father’s eyes, Matt is the failure—the stable, reliable, “boring” son who never “achieved” anything. Yet, the narrative reveals that Matt has built the only life of real value. He has a strong partnership with Sarah, a stable career, and a home. Most importantly, he possesses the one thing Alex and his father lack: humility.
The father, Walter, is the architect of this dynamic. His own unlived ambitions were projected onto his sons, creating a “winner” and a “loser” from the start.
The Moral Dilemma: Pride, Shame, and Grace
When the “ghost” is revealed, the story’s genre shifts from suspense to family drama. The true antagonist is not Alex, but the shame that drives him.
I was interested in exploring the moral and emotional calculus of this family.
- Evelyn (the mother) makes a choice driven by love, but her complicity is a profound betrayal. She protects one son by violating the sanctity of the other’s home, directly contributing to Sarah’s psychological distress.
- Alex’s pride is his fatal flaw. It costs him his business and, nearly, his relationship with his brother. His confession that he envies Matt’s “real life” is the story’s turning point.
- Matt’s reaction is the story’s moral resolution. Where the reader (and Alex) expects judgment, jealousy, or an “I told you so,” Matt offers only grace. He doesn’t laugh or condemn; he offers his sofa. By refusing to participate in the “success/failure” dynamic his father created, Matt is the one who ultimately breaks the cycle.
The story suggests that true success is not the image we project to the world, but the authenticity we can live with when no one is watching. It’s about having a life where you don’t need to hide, and more importantly, being the kind of person who offers a safe harbor to others when they can no longer hide themselves.
Questions for Reflection
- Before the reveal, what did you believe was happening in the apartment? How did the story use small details (like the hot dogs or the conditioner) to guide your suspicions?
- In what ways are familial expectations, like the ones set by Walter, a “ghost” that haunts the characters?
- The story contrasts two types of “success” (Alex’s image vs. Matt’s substance). What do you think the narrative ultimately values?
- Whose actions, in your opinion, caused the most harm: Alex’s deception, Evelyn’s (the mother’s) complicity, or Walter’s long-standing judgment?
- Did Matt’s reaction to his brother’s failure surprise you? Why do you think he was able to offer help instead of judgment?