Dahlia had finally moved into her own place after years of scrimping and saving. Her excitement was infectious—friends congratulated her, and family piled in with warmth and well-wishes. Then her younger sister, Fran, made a grand entrance.
“Surprise!” Fran declared, leading Dahlia downstairs to reveal a vibrant blue couch—a seemingly extravagant gift. Dahlia was stunned. “You always struggle, Fran… how did you afford this?” she wondered aloud. Fran’s answer came offhandedly: “I have my ways. You deserve it, big sis.”
Flattered but uneasy, Dahlia welcomed the couch into her apartment. She and her friends hauled it upstairs, and it gleamed in her living room like a symbol of new beginnings.
That night, though, her celebration turned into a nightmare. Awoken by her friend Rob’s urgent whisper, Dahlia stared in horror at tiny black dots crawling across the couch—infested with bedbugs. Her dream home had become a health hazard.
The next day, she confronted Fran: “Where did this couch really come from?” Fran grew defensive, brushing off the question. That reaction confirmed Dahlia’s worst fears: this wasn’t thoughtful generosity—it was reckless disregard. She realized Fran had knowingly gifted her a contaminated, infected couch.
This betrayal cut deeper than bedbugs. For Dahlia, it wasn’t just about pests—it was about trust. She felt angry, violated, and heartbroken that someone she loved would put her in harm’s way instead of protecting her.
