When Mike’s parents offer him and his family a home, they are over the moon. Mike and Maria have a growing family, and they need the extra space. So, they venture into renovations, making the house a home. But one day, Mike’s parents called, wanting their home back.
When my in-laws offered us a house, we thought it was a dream come true. With three kids and a tight budget, any help came as a blessing.
A close-up of a house | Source: Midjourney
But, let me be honest with you: the house was far from ideal.
“It’s in the middle of nowhere, Mike,” I told my husband when we were sitting on the couch talking about the possibility of moving into the house.
“It’s miles away from the kids’ school and our jobs! We’ll have to leave a lot earlier just to make it on time,” I said, sighing.
A couple sitting on a couch and talking | Source: Midjourney
“I know, Maria,” my husband said. “It irritates me to think that the nearest grocery store is about twenty minutes away. But I don’t want to be ungrateful.”
And I understood that. In fact, their gift had come at the perfect moment. We had outgrown our little two-bedroomed house. It was now cluttered, and our three kids had to share one bedroom.
A cluttered bedroom | Source: Midjourney
“We’ll do it for the kids,” I said, taking his hand. “Whatever happens, we’ll make it work for them.”
“Think of it as a fresh start, kids,” Mike’s mom said when we went over to their home for dinner. “You’ll love the peace and quiet, and the kids will have a lot of space to run about in. This is going to be good for you.”
“Yes, Mom,” Mike said. “We agree with you. We’re looking forward to this new start and just going on a journey together as a family.”
A family sitting at a table | Source: Midjourney
The house itself was a fixer-upper, to put it mildly. There was an entire to-do list of things that needed to be done. The house needed a new kitchen, the wiring needed to be updated, and the bathrooms needed an overhaul.
We knew it would be a big project, but at the end of the day, Mike and I wanted this house to be the home our children grew up in.
“The yard is so big, honey,” Mike told me. “Can you imagine all the birthday parties and even having our kids getting married from here? I love it.”
We poured all our savings into renovating it, making it not just livable but a true home for our family. Our children deserved it.
An outdoor birthday party set up | Source: Midjourney
As things were falling into place, Mike, the tech enthusiast, even set up a state-of-the-art smart home system.
“At least it’s ours,” Mike said, smiling as he showed me how the new system worked. “It finally feels like home.”
A few months went by, and we were settled into our new home. The children adapted beautifully, and Mike and I got closer as a couple. We went on long walks together, and the kids went on picnics together all the time.
Our family had grown closer together.
A picnic set up | Source: Midjourney
Then, last month, my in-laws dropped a bombshell. They decided to sell their current house and buy a lakeside cabin. To fund this new venture, they needed our house back.
What? How? This had become our home.
We were absolutely stunned. They insisted that although they had gifted it to us, they still had a right to take it back. The sense of betrayal was overwhelming.
“They can’t do this,” Mike fumed, pacing our newly renovated kitchen. “We have a letter from them saying it was a gift!”
A shocked couple | Source: Midjourney
My husband and I couldn’t believe it. We had a written letter from them, clearly stating that the house was a gift. We decided to fight back, hiring a lawyer to help us navigate this sudden crisis.
We provided all the documents, receipts, and the gift letter. We were convinced that there had to be some legal ground we could stand on.
“I don’t know what else to do,” Mike said one morning when we were having our coffee together. “I don’t know how we’re supposed to find another place and uproot the kids again. This isn’t fair!”
A stack of paper | Source: Midjourney
Weeks passed as we waited for a resolution. But I was just getting more agitated as the days went on. Mike told me not to do anything until the lawyer got back to us. But I couldn’t wait.
I couldn’t sit back and do nothing while we waited for our home to be taken away from us. So, I spent hours looking at rentals available in the area. I just needed to have options available on hand.
I didn’t know what was coming. And I couldn’t believe that Mike’s parents would willingly put us in this situation.
A woman using a phone | Source: Unsplash
But then, the lawyer did eventually get back to us.
He walked up our driveway expressionless, which immediately made me think that there was no good news coming.
“I’m afraid there’s not much we can do,” he said. “The property was never legally transferred into your names. The documents show them as the legal owners. So, I’m sorry, but Mike’s parents are the owners.”
A man in a suit walking | Source: Midjourney
The news was devastating.
I felt my entire stomach drop.
Mike, furious and heartbroken, suggested we undo all the renovations out of spite.
“They used us,” he said bitterly. “We should take back everything we put into this place.”
But I couldn’t bear the thought. Despite everything, we couldn’t stoop to that level.
“We’re better than that,” I said. “We’ll find another place and make it ours.”
An expressionless woman | Source: Midjourney
So, we packed our belongings and moved into a tiny apartment closer to the city.
It was cramped, but it felt like a fresh start, free from the manipulation of my in-laws.
The kids adjusted surprisingly well, finding new friends and enjoying the proximity to their school and activities.
“I feel like we failed our children,” I told Mike when we were unpacking our kitchen items. “I just hate that they have to share a room again. And bunk beds? You know they hate this!”
“I know, my love,” Mike said. “But it’s just for now. The moment we can move to something better, we will. I promise you.”
A small apartment | Source: Midjourney
Just when we thought that the drama was over, my in-laws reached out to us again. They were struggling with the smart home system Mike had set up.
“We can’t figure out how to use the lights, let alone the heating!” Mike’s dad complained over the phone. “Can’t you come back and help us out here?”
The irony wasn’t lost on us.
An elderly man using a phone | Source: Midjourney
We had made that house livable and even comfortable, pouring our money and energy into it. Now, they were reaping the benefits of our hard work, but they were clueless about managing the systems we installed.
Despite their pleas, there was no way that we were going back.
“No,” Mike said firmly. “The house wasn’t right for us. We’re staying where we are.”
A man holding his phone | Source: Midjourney
The trust was shattered, and the house, with all its tech features, was a constant reminder of the betrayal. Living in the cramped apartment wasn’t easy, but we found solace in the fact that we were free from emotional manipulation.
“This isn’t going to be forever, Maria,” Mike said. “I promise you. I’ll fix this.”
A couple embracing | Source: Midjourney
The experience left us wary of gifts that come with strings attached. We learned that sometimes, what seems like a generous gesture can be a way for others to control your life.
As for my in-laws, they eventually figured out the smart home system, but the damage was done. Our relationship with them has changed irrevocably.
“Please, come over for dinner,” Mike’s mother said. “We miss you guys, and we miss the kids terribly.”
An older woman using a phone | Source: Midjourney
“I’m sorry, Eileen,” I said. “But we’re just so hurt. And you should have known better. You’re a mother; you know how important it is for kids to have stability. And you and Derek took that away from us.”
“Calm down, please, Maria,” she said.
“No, because I don’t think you understand the extent of our wounds. Mike is so disappointed in you both.”
Without another word, Eileen cut the call.
“Oh, well,” I said to myself as I started chopping vegetables for dinner. Mike and the kids would be home soon.
A woman in the kitchen | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |
I Accidentally Found Out My Friend’s Husband Was Cheating – I Couldn’t Help but Take My Revenge
Allison decides to hold onto her youthful side as she drives a taxi during her spare time. But one day, her friend’s husband is her passenger. As she takes the man to his destination, he asks for a detour, revealing a side of him she didn’t know. Next, Allison has to decide whether to be good at her job and protect her friend or help show her the truth.
Driving a taxi at 65 years old wasn’t part of my retirement plan, but it became my passion. I had been a writer for a women’s column for the better part of my career, and since retirement dawned, I only wrote a few articles per month.
A person using a typewriter | Source: Midjourney
“Just something to keep the old clogs working,” my editor, Elena, said when I told her that retirement was knocking on my door. “You don’t have to commit to it, Allison. It can be a freelance role, if that’s what you’d like. But just write for us every so often.”
I agreed, what else did I have to do with my time anyway?
But then, the open road, the hum of the engine, and the stories of my passengers kept me going.
“Mom, why?” my son, Darren, asked me. “Like really? Driving people around?”
A smiling man | Source: Midjourney
“You’ll understand the need to do something freeing when you’re older, son,” I told him. “Let me do this while I still can. And what’s better than enjoying what I do?”
Yesterday was one of those days that I’ll never forget because it reminded me how foul people can be.
The previous day, one of my regulars, Jane, called me. She was a lively 55-year-old woman, and over the years, we had become friends.
A smiling older woman | Source: Midjourney
“Hi, Allison,” she said on the phone. “I need a favor.”
“If it involves those croquettes with the peas that you’re trying to get me to eat, it’s a hard pass,” I chuckled. “What do you need?”
“Mike is leaving on a trip tomorrow, and he needs a ride to the airport. I’m going to be babysitting the grandbaby, so I don’t want to disturb her routine.”
People at an airport | Source: Midjourney
Read the full story here.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
Someone Kept Throwing Eggs at My Husband’s Gravestone – One Day, I Saw Who It Was, and It Nearly Destroyed My Life
Every Sunday, I visited my husband’s grave to feel close to him, until I found raw eggs smashed against his gravestone. At first, I thought it was a cruel prank, but when I caught the culprit in the act, I was shattered to discover it was someone I trusted more than anyone else.
I lost my husband, Owen, one year ago. It was sudden. No warnings, no time to prepare. A heart attack stole him from me, just like that. Twenty-five years together, gone in a moment.
A crying woman | Source: Pexels
For months, I felt like I was walking through fog. Everything hurt. I tried to keep things together for our kids, but inside, I was crumbling. Every Sunday, I’d visit his grave. It became my ritual, my way of feeling close to him.
The cemetery was peaceful. Quiet. Just me, Owen, and the flowers I brought each week. It felt like I could breathe there. But three months ago, something changed.
A winter cemetery | Source: Pexels
The first time, I thought I was seeing things. Eggshells. Yellow yolk smeared across the base of Owen’s gravestone.
“Why would anyone do this?” I whispered to myself, crouching down to clean it. I kept looking over my shoulder, thinking maybe it was just kids pulling a cruel prank.
A gravestone covered in eggs | Source: Midjourney
I cleaned it, thinking it was a one-time thing. But two weeks later, it happened again. This time, there were more eggs—at least six. Broken, dripping down the stone. I cleaned it again, but my heart felt heavier.
I tried asking the cemetery staff for help.
“There’s been some vandalism at my husband’s grave,” I told the man at the desk. He looked bored, barely glancing up.
A sad woman talking to a man in an office | Source: Midjourney
“You can file a report,” he said, sliding a clipboard toward me.
“That’s it? Don’t you have cameras or something?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Not in the newer sections. Sorry.”
I filed the report anyway, but deep down, I knew it wouldn’t help.
An upset elderly woman sitting on her bed | Source: Pexels
The third time I found eggs, I cried. I didn’t even try to hide it. It wasn’t just the mess, it was the feeling that someone was targeting Owen, even in death.
“What do you want from him?” I shouted into the empty cemetery. My voice echoed back at me.
I couldn’t sleep the night before the anniversary of his death. Memories of Owen kept swirling in my mind. I could hear his laugh and feel the way he used to hold my hand when we walked.
A grieving elderly woman | Source: Pexels
By 5 a.m., I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed my coat and decided to go to the cemetery. The sun wasn’t up yet, and the world felt still.
As I walked toward his grave, I stopped in my tracks.
Eggshells. Fresh ones, scattered around. And a figure.
A gravestone covered in eggshells | Source: Midjourney
They were standing by the stone, holding something in their hand. An egg. I froze, my breath catching in my throat. The egg shattered against the stone, the sound sharp in the quiet morning air.
“Hey!” I yelled, my voice shaking. “What are you doing?”
The figure stiffened but didn’t turn. My heart pounded as I ran toward them.
A woman standing in front of a grave | Source: Pexels
They turned slowly, and my breath hitched.
“Madison?” My sister’s face stared back at me, pale and wide-eyed. She still had an egg in her hand, her fingers trembling.
“Why are you here?” she asked, her voice low and sharp.
“You!” I snapped. “You’ve been the one doing this!”
An angry woman | Source: Freepik
Her face twisted. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me,” I said, stepping closer.
She laughed bitterly. “You think he was perfect, don’t you? The loyal husband, the loving dad. That man lied to you for years.”
“What are you talking about?” My voice cracked.
A bitter woman on a graveyard | Source: Midjourney
Madison’s eyes burned into mine. “We had an affair. Five years, Emma. Five years. He promised me everything — money, a future. But when he died, I got nothing. Not a damn cent. All of it went to you and your precious kids.”
I felt like the ground had disappeared beneath me.
“No,” I whispered. “You’re lying.”
A shocked woman on a cemetery | Source: Midjourney
“Am I?” she shot back. “Didn’t he leave everything to you? You’ve seen the will.”
I stared at her, my hands shaking. “How could you do this? To me? To him?”
Her voice turned cold. “You don’t get to judge me. He lied to both of us. He made promises he didn’t keep.”
I couldn’t speak. The words wouldn’t come.
A sad numb woman at a cemetery | Source: Midjourney
Madison dropped the egg, letting it fall to the ground. “You’ve always had everything, Emma. The perfect life, the perfect husband. Well, he wasn’t perfect.”
I watched her turn and walk away, her words echoing in my ears.
A woman walking away | Source: Midjourney
I sat on the damp ground by Owen’s grave, my mind spinning. Madison’s words were like daggers. “We had an affair. Five years.” How could she say something so vile? How could she claim that the man I had loved, trusted, and built a life with had betrayed me like that?
But the doubts started to creep in.
A thoughtful elderly woman | Source: Pexels
I thought about the times Owen had gone on last-minute business trips, always with a vague explanation. “It’s work, Em,” he’d say, giving me that easy smile. I’d never questioned him. Why would I? He was my husband.
Then there were the phone calls. He’d step outside sometimes, claiming it was “just a client,” but his voice was low, hurried.
A man talking on a phone | Source: Pexels
And Madison. She had always been close to Owen. Too close? I remembered the way she laughed at his jokes, even the ones I found annoying. The way she’d pat his arm when she thought no one was watching.
I shook my head, refusing to believe it.
An elderly woman hugging a photo | Source: Pexels
My chest ached as I stared at Owen’s name on the gravestone. “Did you lie to me?” I whispered. “Did I ever really know you?”
I barely noticed Madison storming off. She didn’t look back, and I didn’t call after her. I stayed by the grave for a long time, scrubbing away the yolk and shells with trembling hands. I cleaned it until there was nothing left but the smooth stone.
A woman scrubbing a headstone | Source: Midjourney
The next afternoon, I ran into Madison’s daughter, Carly, at the grocery store. She was holding a basket of vegetables and looked surprised to see me.
“Aunt Emma,” she said with a smile. “How are you?”
I hesitated. “I’ve been better.”
A niece talking to her aunt | Source: Pexels
Her smile faded. “It’s about the grave, isn’t it? Mom told me what happened.”
I swallowed hard. “Carly, did you know… about your mom and Owen?”
She frowned, looking puzzled. “Know what?”
“She said they… had an affair,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
A sad elderly woman | Source: Pexels
Carly’s eyes widened in shock. “What? No. She never said anything like that to me.”
“She claims it lasted five years. That he promised her money, but—” My voice broke, and I stopped.
Carly’s expression shifted to something between confusion and disbelief. “Wait. Mom told you that? She’s never mentioned anything about an affair. Ever. Honestly, Aunt Emma, that doesn’t sound like Uncle Owen at all.”
A thoughtful young woman | Source: Pexels
I stared at her. “Are you sure? She seemed so… certain. She said he lied to both of us.”
Carly sighed. “Mom’s been angry for years, Aunt Emma. You know that. She always said you had everything — a perfect family, a good husband, stability. She feels like she got stuck with the short end of the stick.”
“She’s jealous?” I asked, feeling a pang of guilt.
An elderly woman deep in thought | Source: Pexels
Carly nodded. “It’s not fair, but yeah. That’s how she sees it. But I never saw anything between her and Uncle Owen. Not once. And if something had been going on, I feel like I would’ve noticed.”
I bit my lip. “You’re sure?”
Carly nodded firmly. “Absolutely. Mom might be saying this just to hurt you. I hate to say it, but it wouldn’t surprise me.”
A confident young woman talking to her aunt | Source: Midjourney
I stared at her, unsure whether to feel relieved or more confused.
Carly placed a hand on my arm. “You loved Uncle Owen, didn’t you?”
I nodded, my throat tightening.
“Then hold onto that,” she said gently. “Don’t let Mom take that away from you.”
A woman hugging her aunt | Source: Pexels
Later that evening, I sat in my living room, staring at an old photo of Owen and me. He was smiling, his arm draped around my shoulders. We looked so happy.
Maybe Madison was lying. Maybe she wasn’t. I would never know for sure. But I couldn’t let her bitterness destroy my memories of Owen.
A woman looking at a photo of her husband | Source: Pexels
I thought about our kids, how much they adored their father. They deserved to remember him as the man who loved them, not as the person Madison was trying to paint him to be.
I wiped away a tear and took a deep breath.
“Goodbye, Madison,” I whispered to myself. “You’re not taking him from me.”
A hopeful woman in her living room | Source: Pexels
The next Sunday, I went back to the cemetery. I brought fresh flowers and placed them by Owen’s grave. The air was still and quiet, and for the first time in months, I felt at peace.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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