When Tyler’s most valuable work tool is destroyed during a family visit, he’s forced to confront a lifetime of ignored boundaries and buried resentments. What begins as a shattered screen turns into a reckoning years in the making… because sometimes, the only way to heal is to finally say no.
I’ve worked hard to get everything I have now.
Not the kind of hard work that’s posted with gym selfies or productivity quotes. I mean real hard work. The night shifts that stretch until dawn, the meals I skip so I can afford another month of Photoshop, washing socks in the bathroom sink while living in an apartment the size of a shoebox because going to a laundromat costs too much.
A man standing in a bathroom | Source: Midjourney
I’ve worked hard, believe me.
Every penny I earned in my 20s went into building my career as a freelance designer. Band posters, odd jobs, cheap logos. I worked with a secondhand tablet I picked up from a local pawn shop. It wasn’t reliable, and the quality was awful. Sometimes I got paid for the work I did, sometimes I didn’t.
But I kept going.
A man sitting on a couch using a tablet | Source: Midjourney
And when I finally got a solid contract, I made a big investment: a 1TB iPad Pro. It cost me over $2,000. To everyone else, it was a tablet. To me, it was my livelihood. It was my studio, my client meetings, my deadlines—all on one expensive piece of tech. Soon after, it helped me sign some big contracts.
Contracts that helped me get out of the shoebox and into something more comfortable. It gave me a new lease on life .
An iPad on a table | Source: Unsplash
So when I saw it shattered on the living room floor of my parents’ house, something inside me broke along with it.
We’d all gathered for the holidays, just a few days of family time before the new year began. I worked late into the night finishing a release, then left the iPad charging in Dad’s study, exactly where no little hands could reach it.
The next morning, I walked into the living room, rubbing my eyes, thinking about a cup of coffee with cinnamon, when I saw him.
A cup of coffee on a kitchen counter | Source: Midjourney
Lying on the wooden floor, covered in cobwebs, the protective screen was completely gone. The casing was peeling off and lying nearby like packaging on Christmas morning.
My sister, Josie, was sitting on the couch sipping coffee from a mug that said “World’s Best Mom .” I had bought that mug for my mom two years ago.
“Wow, what is this?” I said, pointing at the remains of my iPad.
A smashed iPad on a living room floor | Source: Midjourney
“Oh, yeah,” he said nonchalantly. “The kids broke your iPad, bro. But relax, Tyler. Dad has an old Samsung. It runs YouTube and maybe some other programs. You’ll be fine.”
I stared at her. There was no apology. Not even a hint of regret in her voice.
“How did they even get hold of him?” I asked. “He wasn’t within their reach, Josie.”
A woman sitting on a couch using her phone | Source: Midjourney
“I gave it to them,” he said. “They wanted cartoons. Don’t be dramatic, you can afford a better one, Tyler. Don’t pretend you can’t. You have a good job.”
“It was a $2,000 work tool, Josie,” I said carefully, as if she might not notice.
“You have a lot of money, Tyler. What’s the problem?”
An angry young man wearing a gray sweater | Source: Midjourney
I didn’t answer yet. Not yet . Instead, I gritted my teeth, my jaw already aching.
Maddie and Matt sat cross-legged on the carpet, clicking the remote. Like their mother, they didn’t bother to say hello to me first. They didn’t even look up.
I approached the study door. Sure enough, it was open. My charger was hanging off the edge of the desk.
The interior of a home office | Source: Midjourney
“Why are you taking something that doesn’t belong to you?” I turned to Josie.
“They were crying,” she shrugged. “They were frustrated because they were bored. And I wanted to watch my movie in peace. It’s hard being a mother to these two when they’re having a tantrum. You weren’t using it, Tyler. You were taking a nap.”
I couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.
An upset girl sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
“You let your kids play with someone else’s expensive things without asking, and they broke them!” I said.
“Relax,” he said again, louder this time. “You’re their uncle. What, can’t you share with your nephews? What’s wrong with you?”
My hands were shaking now. I didn’t trust myself to speak. So I left the room, locked myself in the guest bathroom, and took a deep breath.
Close-up of an upset man in a bathroom | Source: Midjourney
Josie has always been like this. Irresponsible. Arrogant. The kind of person who borrows a thousand dollars under the guise of “diapers” or “groceries” and then disappears for six months. She once cried on the phone about her late rent, and I sent her money within the hour.
A week later, she posted photos from a spa getaway, complete with champagne flutes, white bathrobes, and a sunset caption about “deserving peace.”
Of course, he didn’t mention me. He never does.
A smiling woman with a glass of champagne in her hand | Source: Midjourney
He has a habit of turning emergencies into levers. Emotional hostage situations. If it’s not the rent, it’s his car or his kids. And he always assumes I’ll intervene.
Because I’ve always done it.
I’ve been the “understanding” one. The good brother. The one who fixes things. The one who doesn’t upset things at family dinners. The one who smiles and says “everything’s fine,” even when it isn’t.
A smiling man sitting at a table | Source: Midjourney
But it’s not okay anymore.
Because every time I let it go, every time I assume the cost, financial or emotional, I teach him that nothing has consequences. And I can’t keep doing that.
Not when he handed my life preserver to his children like it was a toy. Not when he laughed as it shattered.
Not this time.
A frustrated man sitting on his bed | Source: Midjourney
After lunch, while the kids were napping and the others were dozing or half-watching soccer in the den, I found Josie alone in the living room. She was looking at her phone, one leg tucked under it, a bowl of popcorn next to her.
She didn’t look up when I sat down across from her.
“You owe me $2,200,” I said, my voice calm but sharp. I needed my sister to know I wasn’t joking.
A woman lying down with a bowl of popcorn and a TV remote | Source: Pexels
He laughed. He really laughed. A soft, contemptuous sound, as if he’d just made a bad joke.
“Tyler, come on,” he said, still laughing. “It’s not that bad. Just get another one.”
“I’m not joking,” I said. I kept my tone firm even though my palms were starting to sweat.
“Oh my God. Are you seriously about to go crazy with your own sister… over a tablet?” she groaned and threw the phone onto the cushion next to her.
A funny woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
“It’s not about a tablet. It’s about you being careless and not recognizing it.”
“Ugh, forget it,” she rolled her eyes as if I was boring her.
“No, Josie,” I said, leaning forward a little. “This isn’t charity. You’re responsible for your children. You and Duncan, their parents . You’ll pay in full. Your ex-husband should pay child support. You figure it out.”
A frowning man standing in a living room | Source: Midjourney
Her face twisted as if I had personally insulted her.
“You’re amazing, Tyler. Family is supposed to forgive. You’re supposed to love your nephews like they’re your own.”
I didn’t flinch.
“Family means not pretending you’re broke when you just bought a new SUV last month, Josie. You’re being ridiculous. I can’t even recognize you right now.”
Smiling children sitting in a classroom | Source: Midjourney
That was a real blow. She opened her mouth, perhaps to deny it, perhaps to scream… but no sound came out. Instead, she abruptly stood up and stormed out into the yard, slamming the sliding door behind her like a teenager.
That night I left. I hugged Mom. I thanked Dad. I hugged the children. However much guilt they felt, their behavior was their mother’s doing. I didn’t say goodbye to Josie.
A close-up of a man driving | Source: Midjourney
The next morning, I filed the lawsuit in small claims court.
Two days later, my lovely sister called me, screaming at the top of her lungs.
“How dare you do this, Tyler?” she squealed.
The interior of a courtroom | Source: Unsplash
“Hi, Jo,” I said nonchalantly.
“Are you really suing me? For children?! Children who are related to you by blood?”
“No, Jo,” I said. “I’m suing a woman who refuses to take responsibility.”
I hung up.
A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
When Mom and I met for coffee a few days later, she told me Josie had cried in the kitchen the day I left. She said I’d humiliated her. That I’d treated her like a stranger, not a sister. That I’d forced her to pay me. But even Mom seemed tired when she said it… as if she’d finally seen it too.
I didn’t defend myself. I didn’t need to anymore.
Dad stayed out of it, as always.
An upset woman sitting at the kitchen table | Source: Midjourney
I didn’t really expect my sister to take responsibility. I was hoping we’d stretch this out for a few months while I got my life together.
But a week later, I received a notification on my phone. A direct deposit. $2,200.
All in one quick payment. It was clear my sister had all the money from the start.
She thought, as always , that I would let it go.
A cell phone on a table | Source: Midjourney
I told myself I wouldn’t talk about it again. That I would take the money, replace the iPad, and move on.
That should have been the end of it, right?
But I couldn’t forget what Josie had told me that day.
“Family is supposed to forgive.”
A thoughtful man looking out a window | Source: Midjourney
I felt it in my chest for days. It wasn’t sharp, just dull and heavy. Like a coat I couldn’t take off. I repeated it over and over in my head, wondering if I’d crossed a line. I wondered if, by asking for the money, I’d somehow become the bad guy in his story.
It lingered like a stain on everything… as if maybe I was the villain here. Maybe I was making something out of nothing.
Maybe I should have let it go.
But then I remembered all the other times I’d done it.
A disgruntled man holding his head | Source: Midjourney
Like when I was 23 and lent her half my salary because “she couldn’t afford the rent,” only to see her post a picture a week later, holding a cocktail by the pool and wearing a pink glitter phone case with her initials on it.
Or the time she crashed her car and Mom begged me to co-sign a loan so Josie could buy another one. Josie cried on the phone that night. She promised she’d pay me back.
He didn’t, of course.
A poolside cocktail | Source: Midjourney
Or what about Maddie’s birthday? When Josie forgot to plan anything. That morning I got down to business. I spent $200 on decorations, cupcakes, a rented bounce house, and I told everyone it was her idea because I couldn’t bear the thought of Maddie being disappointed.
Josie didn’t even thank me. She didn’t acknowledge the effort. She just smiled and let everyone assume she had everything under control.
He assumed I would always be the buffer between his recklessness and its consequences. That I would always take care of the consequences, clean up the mess, keep the peace.
A pink and purple bouncy castle | Source: Midjourney
But people like Josie don’t learn by letting them go easily. They learn by having a hard time. Really hard time.
The new iPad arrived two days later. I took my time unboxing it, slowly peeling off the plastic, putting on a magnetic case, loading my apps. It didn’t feel like a gift.
It looked like dignity wrapped in a pretty, elegant sheath. It was like drawing a line in the sand and saying, “Here. That’s it, that’s all.”
An iPad and a white box on a table | Source: Unsplash
For once, I didn’t carry his mistake. I let him feel its weight. I let him squirm with the discomfort of knowing he couldn’t charm or guilt his way out of this.
Josie didn’t speak to me for a while. Which, honestly, was a gift.
But a month later, he sent me a photo.
It was Maddie and Matt, sitting at the dining room table surrounded by colored pencils and coloring books. Not a tablet in sight. The caption: No screens today. Just colored pencils and coloring books!
Two smiling children sitting at a table with colored pencils and drawings | Source: Midjourney
Below, a message.
“I didn’t think you’d actually do it, Tyler. I thought I might blame you again. But maybe you were right. Maybe I needed to be held accountable.”
It wasn’t exactly an apology… but maybe the start of something new?
A smiling man wearing a red sweater | Source: Midjourney
I didn’t reply, but I didn’t block her either.
Because sometimes, the only way to teach someone the value of what you’ve built… is to let them break it.
And then send him the bill while you eat a slice of carrot cake.
A slice of Carrot Cake | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or to real events is purely coincidental and not the author’s intention.
The author and publisher do not guarantee the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters, and are not responsible for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and the opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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