I thought she was grieving. Lashing out. That she’d take it back.
She didn’t.With nowhere else to go, no job, and no legal access to James’s accounts, I swallowed my pride for the sake of my daughters and agreed.
The garage smelled like oil and mildew. At night, I slept on a camping mat, freezing. On colder nights, I curled in the backseat of our car. I told myself it was temporary. I just had to wait for James’s estate to go through probate.
Judith treated me like a ghost. I cooked, cleaned, kissed my daughters goodnight—and then disappeared into the cold. I existed in silence.
Then, one afternoon, as the girls were coloring in the living room, Grace chirped, “I made Daddy’s eyes blue like the ocean.”
Ella added, “Daddy’s smiling in mine. He always smiled.”
I smiled through the ache in my chest.
Then came the question.
“Mommy?” Ella asked. “Why do you sleep in the garage?”
My hands froze.
Grace added, “Yeah, Grandma sleeps in your bed. Why don’t you sleep there?”
Before I could answer, I saw movement in the hallway.
Judith. Listening.
She didn’t say a word. Just turned and walked away.
A few days later, she knocked on the garage door. When I opened it, I barely recognized her. Her face was pale, her body thin. She looked frail. Small.
“I made a terrible mistake,” she said. “I’m sick, April. The doctors say it’s serious. I think… maybe this is my punishment.”
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