Ассidеntаlly Ехроsеd Оur Еntitlеd Nеighbоr Whilе Таking а Sеlfiе with My Mоm in а Mаll

I never thought a selfie would lead me to the darkest secret of my seemingly perfect neighbor.

But before I tell you about that life-changing selfie, let me shаrе a bit of the backstory.

So, my husband, Bernard, and I moved into our new house exactly two years and four days ago. Yes, I remember the exact date because it was our second anniversary, and we were super excited to start a new chapter of our lives in this cozy little space.

Initially, we loved everything about this new neighborhood. The greenery, the calm environment, and the welcoming demeanor of our next-door neighbors, Jerry and Lola.

I remember the day we moved in, Bernard and I stood in our new garden, taking it all in.

“Can you believe this is our home now?” I asked, grinning from ear to ear.

Bernard wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me close. “It’s perfect, honey. Just look at those trees, and how quiet it is.”

“I know! And did you see how friendly everyone seems? That couple next door even waved at us.”

“Yeah, Jerry and Lola, right? They seem nice. I think we’re going to love it here,” Bernard said, kissing the top of my head.

I nodded, feeling content. “I have a good feeling about this place. It’s exactly what we wanted.”

Little did we know that our seemingly nice neighbors would turn out to be super annoying. We got to see their real faces a few months after we moved in.

Bernard used to work from home before he found this amazing job at an office near our place.

He decided to take that job, which meant I had to wake up early to prepare breakfast and see him off. Once he joined, I started waking up at 5:30 a.m.

I would freshen up and start preparing his breakfast. After having breakfast with him, I’d make myself a hot cup of coffee to get me started for the day.

Then, Bernard would quickly kiss me goodbye. I’d follow him outside with my cup of coffee to pick up the newspaper from our porch. That’s when I’d see Jerry.

Every morning, likе clockwork, Jerry would strut out of his house in a crisp suit, heading to his shiny BMW. But he never missed a chance to criticize our lawn.

“Morning, Ezra,” he’d call out. “Those two millimeters of uneven grass are still there. When are you going to fix that?”

I’d force a smile, clutching my coffee mug tighter.

“Good morning, Jerry. We’ll get to it soon.”

Then, he’d wrinkle his nose, eyeing my mug.

“Is that the same cheap coffee? You really should buy a better brand. The smell is… overwhelming.”

Before I could respond, he’d turn to Bernard, who was usually just getting into his truck.

“Bernard, my man! When are you going to upgrade that rust bucket? It’s really bringing down the neighborhood’s aesthetic.”

Bernard would just chuckle and wave, but I could always see the tightness around his eyes.

It wasn’t just Jerry, though. His wife, Lola, was cut from the same cloth.

One afternoon, she sauntered over while I was planting some flowers in our front yard.

“Oh, Ezra,” she said, her voice sickeningly sweet. “Those flowers are… interesting. But don’t you think they clash with the house color? Maybe you should consult a landscaper. I have a great one I could recommend.”

I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment and frustration.

These constant jabs and ‘helpful’ suggestions were wearing me down. I loved our home, our lawn, our flowers, and yes, even Bernard’s old truck. But Jerry and Lola’s comments made me question everything.