I asked my friend to look after our house while we were on holiday.When we returned, I was speechless at what I saw…

My husband and I had been planning our holiday for two years. We saved money, picked the dates, and booked the tickets. Finally, everything was set—two weeks in Italy, just the two of us.

A week before we left, I started to worry. The house would be empty, the plants needed watering, and the mail needed to be collected. I called my friend—we had been friends for fifteen years, and I completely trusted her. I asked if she could drop by once every three days. She agreed immediately, saying it was no trouble at all.

I gave her the keys, showed her where everything was, and which plants to water. She hugged me goodbye and wished us a great holiday.

The two weeks flew by. We strolled around Rome, sipped wine on terraces, and enjoyed the peace and each other’s company. I messaged my friend a few times, asking if everything was alright. She always replied briefly: “Yes, everything’s fine, don’t worry.”

We returned late in the evening. I opened the door—and immediately felt that something was off. The apartment smelled of unfamiliar perfume. I walked into the living room and stopped.

There was a pillow on the couch that wasn’t ours. There was a cup with unfinished coffee on the table. In the bathroom, there were unfamiliar cosmetics on the shelf. I opened the closet in the bedroom—there were three dresses hanging there that I had never seen before.

My husband came in after me, looked around, and asked, “What’s this?” I didn’t know what to say.

I called my friend. It took her a long time to answer. When she finally did, her voice sounded guilty. I asked directly, “Did you live here?”

She paused and said, “Well, yes. Sorry, had a fight with my husband and stayed at your place. I thought since you were away, the house was empty anyway. I figured it was no big deal.”

I couldn’t believe it. She hadn’t asked for permission. She just decided she had the right. She lived in our apartment, slept in our bed, used our things.

I asked, “Why didn’t you say anything?” She replied, “Why ruin your holiday? What if you wouldn’t have approved? I tidied up, watered the plants. Why are you reacting like this?”

I hung up. Sat down on the couch, not knowing what to feel. Anger? Hurt? Betrayal?

My husband said we should change the locks. I nodded.

The next day, I gathered her belongings, brought them to her, and asked for the keys back. She handed them over with an offended look and said, “I didn’t think you’d be so high and mighty. I helped you, took care of the house, what’s wrong?”

I left without saying a word. Because I realized, to her, it was really a small matter. She didn’t see anything wrong in crossing boundaries, using my home as her own, without asking.

Three months have passed. She doesn’t call anymore. Neither do I. Sometimes, I see her posts on social media—she writes about the betrayal of friends and the importance of valuing those around us.

And every time I read it, I think: she still hasn’t understood that she was wrong.

Would you forgive a friend for something like this, or would you close the door forever?

***

I asked a friend to look after our house while we were on vacation. I calmly gave her the keys and we flew off. When we returned late in the evening, tired and carrying our suitcases, I opened the door – and froze. My heart started pounding so hard it was difficult to breathe. And when I stepped further inside, I realized just how wrong I had been about her…
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