After a brutal 14-hour ER shift, all I wanted was pizza and silence. Instead, I found a toothpick jammed in my front door lock. Weird, but I managed to remove it with tweezers. The next night? It happened again. That’s when my brother Danny, armed with his trusty toolkit, confirmed it wasn’t random—someone was messing with me on purpose. So we installed a security camera. The culprit? My ex, Josh—the same guy I dumped months ago for texting his “work friend” while I was working double shifts. There he was on camera,
carefully inserting a toothpick like he was defusing a bomb. Furious but amused, I called Connor, my tattooed, motorcycle-riding friend who’s never turned down a chance for drama. We devised a plan. The next night, I pretended to leave, then snuck in the back. Connor, dressed in my pink bathrobe, waited by the door. Right on cue,