I used to think love could protect me from everything. That Theo, my husband, would always be there to catch me. When he asked me to leave my finance job to be a stay-at-home mom, he promised I’d never have to worry. I loved him, so I said yes. We had twin girls, Hazel and Ivy, who became our whole world.
Then he was gone.
It was a gray afternoon when the call came. Theo was hurrying home from a business trip, excited to see us. The roads were slick, and his car skidded off the highway. The officer said it was quick—no pain. But all I heard was my heart pounding in my ears.
Days blurred. The funeral came and went. I held my girls close, replaying Theo’s last voicemail to hear his voice. I thought losing him was the worst pain possible.
I was wrong.
After the funeral, I stayed at the cemetery, needing a moment with Theo before facing reality. Selene, my mother-in-law, had taken the girls home.
“We’ll talk when you’re back,” she said. “I’ll get the twins bathed and settled.”
When I got home, Selene was waiting in the living room, her back stiff, hands clasped, her eyes cold and sharp.
“This house is mine, Nova,” she said. “I let you and Theo live here, but now I’m taking it back.”
My breath caught, like I’d been shoved. “What?”
She sighed, like I was wasting her time. “Theo never changed the deed. I offered after the twins were born, but he didn’t do it. It’s still mine. You can stay… in the garage.”
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I searched her face for a hint of kindness, some sign she was grieving and didn’t mean it. But her gaze was hard. She wanted me to beg. I knew it.
I looked at Hazel and Ivy, curled up on the couch, their sleepy eyes watching me. They’d lost their dad. I couldn’t let them lose their home too.
So I nodded.
The garage smelled of oil and rust. At night, the cold sank into my bones through the thin mat and blanket I slept on. When it got too bad, I curled up in the car’s backseat, hugging myself for warmth.
I told myself it was temporary. Theo had left us money, but legal stuff takes time. Until it was sorted, I had nothing—no job, no access to our accounts, nowhere to go. Shame kept me from telling anyone.
I only entered the house to cook for the girls, do their laundry, or kiss them goodnight. I moved through my own home like a stranger. Selene barely looked at me.
Why would she? She’d won.
One afternoon, I sat with Hazel and Ivy in the living room. Crayons scattered across the coffee table as they drew, their faces scrunched in focus.
“I’m drawing Daddy’s eyes blue!” Hazel said, pressing hard on her paper. “Like the ocean.”
Ivy tilted her head. “Mine’s smiling. Daddy always smiled,” she said, her own smile peeking through.
I swallowed hard. “He did,” I whispered.
The air felt heavy with unspoken things. The only sounds were crayons scratching and little feet shifting on the rug.
Then Ivy spoke. “Mommy? Why do you sleep in the garage?”
My hands froze.
Hazel looked up, her eyes wide and trusting, just like Theo’s when he’d ask the girls about their dreams.
“Yeah,” Hazel added. “Grandma sleeps in your bed. Why don’t you?”
Pain twisted in my chest. I forced a smile, tucking Ivy’s hair behind her ear.
“Sometimes grown-ups make tough choices, sweethearts. It’s not fun, but it’s for a bigger reason.”
Ivy frowned, thinking hard. “But you’re Daddy’s wife.”
The words hit like a punch. “I am,” I whispered.
“Then why does Grandma get the big bed?” Hazel asked.
I opened my mouth, but no words came. A creak came from the hallway. I glanced up and saw Selene gripping the doorframe, her face pale. She wasn’t looking at me—she was watching the girls.
For the first time, she looked like she’d made a terrible mistake.
But she didn’t speak. She just turned and walked away.
One night, a knock came at the garage door. I opened it to find Selene. She wasn’t the same woman who’d banished me. Her neat hair was messy, gray strands standing out. Her face was pale, lips dry. Her hands shook.
I frowned. “Selene?”
She stepped forward, holding something in her hand. It was a folded envelope. Her voice cracked when she spoke.
“I found Theo’s letter.”
I blinked. “What letter?”
Her lip trembled. “He wrote it before his last trip. He left it in the back of the closet… I didn’t know. I—I read it.”
She pressed the envelope into my hand, her fingers cold. “He talked about you. About how he wanted everything to be in your name. That he trusted you with the girls, with everything. He even said I was to support you… not punish you.”
My heart thudded.
“I was angry,” she whispered. “Grieving. I thought pushing you out would… I don’t know. But I heard the girls today. What they said. And I saw your face. I can’t undo what I did, but…”
Her voice cracked again. “Please come back inside.”
I looked down at the letter, my name scrawled across the front in Theo’s handwriting. My eyes burned with tears.
“I’ll come back in,” I said quietly, “but not for you.”
She nodded. “I know.”
I stepped inside and clutched the letter close. For the first time in a month, I breathed—really breathed.
The storm hadn’t passed yet. But maybe now, I could rebuild. For Theo. For the girls. For myself.
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