It blew up faster than I expected. Within minutes, her comments filled with people calling her out.
Stuff like, "Wait, you were engaged while living with another guy? You said you two broke up months ago."
"Girl, this is messy af."
Minerva tried to fight back with more stories, quotes about healing from narcissists and choosing peace. But every time she posted, people dragged her harder.
Meanwhile, I went into practical mode. By noon, I was halfway through cleaning up the digital mess. I opened the fridge and started tossing her wellness stuff. Half-drunk green juices, five jars of expired chia pudding, whatever that pink mushroom powder was. Every item felt like a small reset button.
Around 1 p.m., my phone rang again. Unknown number. I almost didn't answer, but something told me to.
"Hi, this is Billy," the voice said.
It took me a second. "Minerva's sister?"
"Yeah. I just wanted to say I'm sorry."
I didn't say anything. I just let her talk.
"She told us you two broke up months ago," Billy continued. "Said you were just roommates and she was too scared to leave. Then this morning, she's crying to mom saying you ambushed her with cops."
"Did she mention announcing her engagement over spaghetti?" I asked.
Billy exhaled. "Yeah. I didn't believe it until mom showed me the ring picture. Patrick, I don't even know what to say. She's been lying to everyone."
"I figured."
"She asked me to come by for her stuff. Is it okay if I do that without her? She's been on Instagram all day and honestly, I can't listen to it anymore."
"Everything's packed," I said. "Two suitcases, four garbage bags. I'll leave them in the garage. You can come by anytime after work."
She hesitated. "Thank you. And I'm really sorry for all this."
"No need," I said. "She's your sister, not your fault."
When we hung up, I stood there for a minute just taking it all in. The last 24 hours felt like a fever dream, except I wasn't the one hallucinating.