Halloween night, I’d been looking forward to this one. “Just think, Lil,” Mark, my husband, said, nudging me as we set out candy, “next Halloween, we’ll be doing this for a little trick-or-treater of our own.”

I smiled, resting a hand on my belly. “I can’t wait.”

As we settled onto the couch, I thought about all the little moments we’d had that brought us here. But then, as if someone could sense our peace, Mark’s phone buzzed. It was Carla, Mark’s mom, who lived in a neighboring town. I had a bad feeling and didn’t even need to look at Mark to see him tense up beside me.

Mark sighed, glancing at me apologetically. “I’ll be quick. Promise.”

I tried to hide my frustration. “Go on, take it. It is your mom, after all.”

Mark picked up, his voice warm. “Hey, Mom, happy Halloween!”

Carla’s voice was loud enough for me to hear a little from across the room. “Happy Halloween, honey! It’s just not the same without you here. Remember all those Halloweens when you were little? We made the best costumes together.”

Mark softened. He didn’t see it, but I knew Carla loved these “remember when” conversations. She pulled on his memories to reel him back in, reminding him of the special bond they shared, one that became especially close ever since his dad passed when Mark was a kid. Now, with no other family close by, he felt responsible for her.

“You should come celebrate here with, Mom. I know you reminisce when you feel lonely,” he offered.

“Oh, no, no,” she said, pausing. “I wouldn’t want to intrude on your evening. Could you come to my place?”

I had heard this act enough times to know exactly where it was going. She wanted him to come to her, and she wasn’t about to give up until she got what she wanted. Mark tried to gently brush off her hints, glancing at me with a reassuring smile.

“Mom, Lily’s due any day now. I need to stay close to where she feels most comfortable, just in case,” he said, almost pleading.

Then, her voice came back, trembling. “Actually, Mark, I wasn’t going to say anything, but… I’m just feeling really shaken up. My neighbor, Susan, she’s… not doing well at all. Had a fall today, right in her driveway. Scared me half to death.”

Mark’s brow furrowed. “Oh no, is she okay?”

“Well, I… I think so. I don’t know. She might need help. And I’m… just so alone. It’s hard, Mark. Not having you here. Susan always says I’m like family to her.” Her voice broke, like she was holding back a sob. “She could really use a hand. And I… I don’t know who else to turn to.”

I rolled my eyes, unable to hold it in any longer. “Does she need help, or does she just want you there?” I whispered, frustration bubbling over. But Mark looked at me, torn.

“I know, Mom. I know it’s hard.” He turned to me, his expression torn and apologetic. “Mom, if you need me, I’ll come.”

He headed to the hall closet and reached for his emergency bag. I could feel my patience snap.

Mark bolted up the stairs, and I heard him start to pack his bag. A wave of frustration bubbled up inside me. It was Halloween night, our last quiet holiday before the baby, and here he was, ready to rush to his mother’s side again.

I took a deep breath, wrestling with my suspicion. What if it’s real this time? But a voice in my head countered, How many times has this happened?

I thought back to our first anniversary. Mark and I had planned a weekend getaway, something simple but special. I was so excited, and he was too, until Carla called that morning.

A “terrible back pain” she couldn’t ignore, she’d claimed. She’d played up her helplessness so convincingly that Mark had canceled our plans and driven to her house. He ended up spending two whole days there, and by the time he returned, the weekend was over.

Then there was last year when we’d booked flights to visit my sister for Thanksgiving. We’d been packed and ready to leave for the airport when Carla called with another “emergency.” This time, her water heater had burst, and she had no one else who could help. Once again, Mark canceled, promising me we’d reschedule. We never did.

With every step I heard from upstairs, my doubts about her “emergencies” grew stronger. I grabbed my phone, hesitant, but finally pulled up Carla’s Facebook profile. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was looking for, but I felt compelled to check.

And there it was. From just a few hours ago, a smiling selfie of Carla and Susan, surrounded by pumpkins on her front porch. They both looked perfectly happy, not a trace of the distress she’d described to Mark. Underneath, Susan had commented, “Halloween fun with my favorite person!”

This can’t be real, I thought. Was it really just a few hours ago that she’d been laughing and decorating, only to call Mark now, claiming a serious accident had occurred earlier the same day?

Just to be sure, I decided to message Susan on Facebook. She had always been friendly, and I figured if something truly serious had happened, I could at least help out as well.

My message read: Hi, Susan! Just wanted to check in. Mark got a call that you fell on your driveway today, and we were worried. Are you okay?

Susan’s response was blunt: Oh no, everything’s fine here! Carla and I had a great day. We were out decorating earlier. No falls here, thank goodness!

I held my phone tightly, my heart pounding. With a steadying breath, I called out, “Mark, come here. Please.”

He stopped halfway down the stairs, his bag in one hand, confusion clouding his face. “Lily, we don’t have time. She needs me.”

“Mark, before you go, just look at this,” I said, holding out my phone.

With a sigh, he walked over, took the phone from my hand, and looked down at the screen. His eyes scanned the recent Facebook post.

He frowned, clearly grasping for an explanation. “She could’ve posted this before,” he said weakly. “Maybe… maybe it was before everything happened.”

“Mark, look at the timestamp,” I said, struggling to keep my voice steady.

He scrolled back through the comments, his frown deepening. “Lily, that doesn’t mean anything. Just because she posted this earlier doesn’t mean… doesn’t mean something didn’t happen later.”

I took a deep breath. “All right, then look at this.” I pulled up my messages and showed him Susan’s reply. “I asked Susan if everything was okay. Here — she says she’s home, fine.”

Mark’s eyes stayed on the message, the realization slowly sinking in. I watched his face fall, confusion and hurt battling within him. “Why?” he asked, almost to himself. “Why would she lie about something like this?”

I met his gaze, speaking gently. “Mark, she wants you to herself. She does this every time she thinks she’s losing you.” I paused, letting the weight of that sink in. “Think back to all her ’emergencies.’ Our first anniversary? Thanksgiving last year? She always calls you away at the last second, and every time, you rush to her side.”

He was silent, staring at the floor, but then his face hardened. “You’re right,” he said finally, his voice steady. “We need to put a stop to this.”

I could see the hurt in his eyes, but also a flicker of determination. “I think it’s time we confront her,” I said. “Make her face what she’s been doing.”

A plan started to form in both our minds, a way to make Carla finally see the damage her lies had caused. Mark nodded slowly, a quiet resolve settling over him.

Mark and I spent the next hour transforming our cozy living room into what we called “The House of Lies.”

We gathered everything we could find that captured Carla’s past “emergencies” and placed them strategically around the room. Social media posts, printouts of texts, and even handwritten notes recounting the events were spread across tables and walls.

The decorations, meant to be spooky, took on a new edge, as if exposing all the ghosts of the past years.

As we worked, Mark grew quiet, his face a mix of sadness and resolve. Finally, he looked at me and said, “Thank you for doing this with me. I don’t think I’d be brave enough on my own.”

I squeezed his hand. “You’re doing this for us, Mark. And for our baby. It’s time she understands what her lies have cost. I know it’s drastic. But your mom is stubborn.”

At last, the room was ready, every inch layered with memories and messages we’d held back for too long. I sent Carla a message, saying I’d gone into early labor. She’d come running—no hesitation this time. And sure enough, fifteen minutes later, her car pulled up outside. Mark and I sat in the shadows, holding hands, faces flickering in the soft candlelight as we waited in silence.

My mind wandered for a moment, questioning if this was too harsh, if turning her own tactics back on her crossed a line. But the thought faded as headlights swept across the window.

I looked at Mark, and we braced ourselves, the silence tightening as her footsteps drew closer.

Сarla stepped into our darkened living room, calling out, “Mark? Lily?” Her voice echoed slightly, met only by silence. She took a few hesitant steps, her gaze catching on the flickering lights that dimly illuminated the room.

Slowly, she noticed the photos taped to walls, text messages and social media screenshots pinned to cabinets, each one casting shadows on the walls like ghosts.

“Looking familiar?” Mark’s voice came from the shadows, calm and steady. I flicked on the lights.

“Looking familiar?” Mark’s voice came from the shadows, calm and steady. I flicked on the lights.

Carla spun around, startled. “Mark? What… what is this?” She managed a nervous laugh. “Some kind of Halloween joke?”

I stepped forward from the corner, meeting her wide-eyed stare. “No joke, Carla. This is the truth — all the times you’ve lied and manipulated us. We wanted you to see the damage you’ve done.”

Mark’s expression was calm, but his voice held an edge. “Mom, we know today’s ’emergency’ was fake. Again.”

Carla’s mouth opened and closed, struggling for words. “Honey, I… I was worried about you, that’s all. You’re my son. I just wanted to keep you close.”

“No,” Mark said firmly. “You wanted to keep me under your thumb. I gave up so much time with Lily because of your emergencies. Holidays, anniversaries… every single time, I rushed over because I thought you needed me. But it was always you needing control.”

She swallowed, looking uncomfortable. “Well… I might’ve exaggerated a little this time. But I don’t understand why you’re turning this against me. Don’t I deserve some attention from my son?”

I took a step forward, keeping my voice steady. “Carla, every time, it’s you in some ‘crisis’ that only he can fix.”

She crossed her arms, defiant. “Mark’s my only son. You don’t know what it’s like to be left behind. I did what I had to so he’d remember who’s been there for him all his life.”

Mark’s shoulders slumped as he looked at her, sadness lining his face. “Mom, I never forgot. But this… this isn’t love. It’s control. You can’t keep pulling me away.”

“We aren’t trying to leave you, Carla,” I said, my voice soft but steady. “We’re starting a family. You’re still part of it, but you have to respect our lives too.”

Tears welled in Carla’s eyes, her voice shaking. “Mark, I never meant to hurt you. When your father passed, I… I was afraid of being alone. And then when you married, and now with the baby, I felt you slipping away.”

Mark put a hand on her shoulder, his expression softening. “We do need you, Mom. But we also need honesty from you. I have a family now, and they come first.”

I moved forward, placing a hand on her other shoulder. “Stay tonight. Let’s make new memories together, without lies.”

As we stood together, the screenshots on the walls became something different — not reminders of pain, but a promise for honesty and healing in the family we all shared.

Liked this story? Consider checking out this one: While my seven-year-old daughter fought for her life in the hospital with severe pneumonia, my neighbor decided to “decorate” my front door with rotten tomatoes. All because I hadn’t put up Halloween decorations early enough for her liking.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.