“My Aunt and Cousin Are Moving In: A Warning from My Sister”

I was sitting in my small, one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn when I received a call from my sister, Sarah. Her voice was urgent, almost frantic.

“Hey, you need to prepare yourself,” she said without any preamble.

“For what?” I asked, already feeling a knot forming in my stomach.

“Aunt Linda and Jake are moving in with you. Mom told me to warn you.”

I was stunned. Aunt Linda? The same Aunt Linda who had always been a bit of a mystery to me? And Jake, her son, who I hadn’t seen in years? The last time I saw them was at a family reunion when I was ten. Aunt Linda had two kids: Jake and Emily. Emily had moved to California years ago, and we lost touch.

“Why are they moving in with me?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Mom wouldn’t say,” Sarah replied. “She just said it’s urgent and that you need to be ready.”

I hung up the phone and sat there, staring at the wall. My apartment was barely big enough for me, let alone two more people. But family is family, right? I had no choice but to make room.

A week later, they arrived. Aunt Linda looked older than I remembered, her face lined with worry. Jake, now in his twenties, had a hardened look about him. They brought with them only a few suitcases and a sense of unease that filled the room.

“Thank you for letting us stay,” Aunt Linda said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course,” I replied, forcing a smile. “Make yourselves at home.”

Days turned into weeks, and the tension in the apartment grew thicker. Aunt Linda spent most of her time in the bedroom, leaving only to use the bathroom or grab a quick bite to eat. Jake was even more elusive, often disappearing for hours at a time without explanation.

One night, I decided to confront Aunt Linda. I found her sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at an old photograph of her family.

“Aunt Linda, what’s going on?” I asked gently. “Why did you have to move in with me?”

She looked up at me, her eyes filled with tears. “It’s complicated,” she said. “Jake got into some trouble back home. We had to leave.”

“What kind of trouble?” I pressed.

She shook her head. “It’s better if you don’t know.”

I felt a chill run down my spine. What kind of trouble could be so severe that they had to flee their home? I decided not to push further, but the unease never left me.

One evening, I came home from work to find the apartment empty. Aunt Linda and Jake were gone, leaving behind only a note on the kitchen table.

“Thank you for everything. We had to leave suddenly. Don’t try to find us.”

I felt a mix of relief and worry. What had happened? Where did they go? I called my mother, but she had no answers either.

Months passed, and life slowly returned to normal. But the questions lingered. What kind of trouble had Jake gotten into? Why did they have to leave so abruptly?

One day, I received a call from an unknown number. It was Emily, Aunt Linda’s daughter.

“I heard what happened,” she said. “Jake got involved with some dangerous people. They were after him.”

“Is he okay?” I asked, my heart pounding.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “But I think it’s best if we all move on.”

I hung up the phone, feeling a sense of finality. Sometimes, family secrets are best left buried.