I left for a two-week vacation believing my home was safe. A few days later, a shocking message from a friend made me realize I had trusted the wrong person to care for my cat while I was away.
I was 27 years old, single, and finally doing something for myself.
I did not have a husband or children, and for years, I had poured all my energy into work.
While many of my friends were getting married and starting families, I was building my career and saving money.
I did not regret my choices, but I desperately needed a break.
So, when I finally booked a two-week vacation, I felt like I had earned every second of it.
The only thing I worried about was my cat, Oliver.
Oliver was spoiled, dramatic, and convinced that the entire house belonged to him.
Since I could not exactly pack him into my suitcase, I asked my neighbor, Melissa, if she could feed him and water my plants while I was away.
Melissa and I had always gotten along well.
We chatted over the fence, accepted packages for each other, and occasionally shared coffee on weekends.
She lived next door with her boyfriend, Jake, in a small one-bedroom apartment.
