When April’s husband James dies, she loses more than just the love of her life. She loses her home. Forced to sleep in the garage while her cruel mother-in-law, Judith, takes everything, April endures the unbearable. But when Judith falls seriously ill, she shows up at April’s door, begging for help. Will April choose to get revenge… or will she find it in her heart to forgive?
I used to think that love could protect me from anything. I believed that no matter what happened, my husband James would always be there to catch me when I fell.
When he asked me to leave my career in finance to be a stay-at-home mom, he promised that I’d never have to worry about a thing. I loved him so much, I agreed.
We had twin daughters, Grace and Ella, who became the center of our world.
And then, everything shattered.
It happened on a gray afternoon. James had been hurrying home from a business trip, eager to see us. The roads were slick, and his car skidded off the highway. The officer on the other end of the line kept saying things like “instant impact” and “no suffering,” but all I could hear was the sound of my heartbeat pounding in my ears.
The days blurred together. The funeral came and went, and all I could do was cling to my daughters, to the last voicemail James left me. I replayed it over and over, desperate to hear his voice again.
I thought losing him was the worst thing that could ever happen to me.
But I was wrong.
After the funeral, I spent hours at the cemetery. I just wanted to be near James, to have a few more moments with him before I went back to reality.
Judith, my mother-in-law, had taken the girls home.
“We’ll talk when you get back,” she said. “I’ll get the twins bathed and settled in.”
When I returned, Judith was waiting for me.
She sat in the living room, her back straight, hands folded in her lap, looking at me with that cold, calculating stare she always had.
“This house belongs to me, April,” she said, her voice chilling. “I let you and James live here, but now, I’m taking it back.”
I froze. My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment, I thought I had misheard her.
“Judith, I…” I stammered.
“What?” she cut me off.
“James never changed the deed,” she said, sighing as though bored by the conversation. “I gave him the option after the twins were born, but he never followed through. So the house is still in my name. You can stay, but you’ll sleep in the garage.”
I stared at her, struggling to make sense of her words. My mind raced, searching for any sign of humanity, any flicker of grief or remorse. But there was nothing.
She just sat there, waiting for me to beg her. I could see it in her eyes.
I looked at my daughters, their big, innocent eyes watching me from the couch. They had already lost their father. I couldn’t let them lose their home too.
So, I agreed.
The garage smelled of oil and rust. At night, the cold seeped through the thin camping mat I slept on, the chill creeping into my bones. On the worst nights, I curled up in the backseat of the car, wrapping my arms around myself for warmth.
I told myself it was only temporary.
James had left money for us, but the legalities took time. I just had to be patient. Because until the lawyer finalized everything, I had nothing—no job, no access to our accounts, nowhere to go.
And even if I did have someone to call, I couldn’t imagine saying the words out loud. The shame would choke me.
I existed in silence. I only went into the house to cook and eat with the girls. To do their laundry, to kiss them goodnight. I moved through my own home like a stranger.
A month passed, and Judith barely acknowledged me. Why would she? She had won.
One afternoon, I sat in the living room with my daughters. Crayons rolled across the coffee table, scattering in every direction. Grace and Ella were cross-legged on the floor, their tiny hands gripping their crayons, their faces full of concentration.
“I’m drawing Daddy’s eyes blue!” Grace said, pressing hard into the paper. “Like the ocean.”
Ella tilted her head, studying her drawing.
“Mine is smiling. Daddy always smiled,” she said, a small smile creeping onto her face.
I swallowed, my throat tight.
“He did,” I whispered.
The air was thick, heavy with everything left unsaid. The only sounds were the scratch of crayon against paper, the shuffle of little feet against the rug.
I ran my fingers along the edge of a blank sheet, willing myself to stay strong.
Then Ella spoke.
“Mommy?”
I looked up.
“Yeah, baby? What’s wrong?”
She hesitated, chewing her bottom lip.
“Why do you sleep in the garage?”
My hands stilled, and I felt my heart drop.
Grace looked up too, her expression open and trusting, just like James used to look when he wanted to know about their nightmares.
“Yeah,” she said. “Grandma sleeps in your bed. Why don’t you sleep there?”
A sharp pain twisted in my chest. I forced a smile, tucking a strand of hair behind Ella’s ear.
“Because sometimes grown-ups have to make hard decisions, baby girls. It’s not always nice, but there’s always a bigger reason.”
Ella frowned, deep in thought.
“But you’re Daddy’s wife,” she said, her voice innocent.
The words hit me like a punch.
“I am,” I whispered, my throat thick. “I am Daddy’s wife, yes.”
Grace blinked up at me, waiting for an answer. I hadn’t realized that my girls were holding onto these thoughts.
“Then why doesn’t Grandma get the big bed?” she asked.
I opened my mouth, but no words came.
Just then, a creak sounded from the hallway. I glanced up, and there, standing just beyond the corner…
Was Judith.
She wasn’t looking at me. She was watching the girls.
Her hands gripped the doorframe. Her face was pale, her lips pressed into a thin line. For the first time, she looked like someone who had made a terrible mistake.
But she didn’t say anything.
She just stood there, listening. And when I didn’t answer my daughters, she turned and walked away.
And then, one night, there was a knock at the garage door. I opened it, and there stood Judith.
But she wasn’t the same woman who had banished me. For the first time in a long time, I really looked at her.
Her hair, usually so pristine, was unkempt. The gray streaks in her hair were more pronounced. Her face, always so controlled, was pale and hollow, her lips cracked and dry.
Her hands trembled uncontrollably.
I frowned. Had she always been this thin? I made sure there was always plenty of food—so why did she look like she hadn’t been eating?
She swallowed hard, and when she spoke, her voice cracked.
“April, please…”
I didn’t say anything.
She blinked rapidly, fighting back tears.
“I made a terrible mistake.”
I waited.
She exhaled shakily, her words barely a whisper.
“I’m sick…”
Fear flashed across her face, and for the first time, I saw her as vulnerable, human.
I should’ve felt vindicated. I should have taken pleasure in seeing her finally broken. But all I felt was exhaustion.
“What do you want?” I asked, my voice hollow.
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
“The doctors say it’s bad. And I can’t stop thinking that maybe… maybe this is my punishment.”
I crossed my arms, trying to keep my composure.
“For what? For throwing your widowed daughter-in-law into a garage?” I asked, my voice sharper than I meant it to be.
She flinched, as though I had slapped her.
“For everything, April. For the way I treated you. For pushing people away.”
A heavy silence settled between us.
Then, Judith reached into her coat and pulled out a stack of papers.
“I transferred the house to you and the girls,” she said, her voice quiet. “It’s yours now. Officially. As it always should have been.”
“Why?” My stomach clenched.
“Because I have no one else.”
I stared at the papers in my hands. This was it. Proof that I never had to beg. Proof that I never had to fear being cast aside again.
But as I looked at Judith’s face, I saw only regret, the weight of her cruelty finally catching up with her.
I stepped inside.
“Come inside,” I said, my voice softer.
She hesitated.
“Oh, it’s cold in here,” she murmured.
“I know, but you get used to it,” I replied, the words feeling more bitter than I intended.
For the first time, the woman who had once treated me like I was nothing let herself cry.
The guest room felt strange with her in it. She moved around it like a visitor, making sure everything was just as it had been. I could see the tension in her shoulders, the unfamiliarity of being in this house she’d tried so hard to control.
That night, Judith sat on the edge of the guest room bed, hands folded in her lap, staring at the cup of tea I’d placed on the nightstand. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast shadows on her face, making her seem smaller.
It was the first night since I’d moved back into the house, and everything felt… different.
I sat across from her, legs pulled up onto the chair, cradling my mug in my hands.
The silence stretched, thick and uneasy, but not hostile.
She broke it.
“I have cancer,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Stage three.”
I exhaled slowly. The weight of her words hit me, and though we both knew it was serious, it still felt like a punch to the gut.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen next,” she admitted, her voice tremulous.
Her hands trembled as she traced the rim of her mug.
“I’m scared, April.”
“I know,” I said quietly. “But you’re not alone. You’re part of this family. The twins and I are here for you.”
She let out a shaky breath, her eyes filling with tears.
“I don’t deserve your kindness,” she whispered.
“Probably not,” I said, cutting her off before guilt could consume her. “But Grace and Ella love you. And whether you like it or not, you’re family.”
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, and a small, shaky breath escaped her.
“James would want us to take care of each other.”
“Yeah,” I replied. “He would.”
Judith exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over her face.
“God, I’m going to be eating so much damn soup, aren’t I?”
I snorted.
“Oh, absolutely! Soup, herbal tea, all the nutritious food you never wanted to touch before.”
She made a face, and for the first time, I saw her laugh.
It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t easy. But in that moment, I knew we were going to be okay.
Because despite everything, we were family.