George’s absence haunts their home, his memory wrapped in his shirt that Mariana clutches each night. Yet, it wasn’t his death that shattered her… it was her stepdaughter Susan’s demand for his assets. When she finally gave in, a twist emerged, leaving Susan furious and Mariana oddly at peace.
Moving on after losing a loved one is never easy. Sometimes, I still hear my hubby George’s voice in the back of my head. I wake up clutching his favorite shirt, his scent lingering on the fabric. But while I was still grieving his loss, what my stepdaughter did… it completely shattered me…
I’m Mariana, 57 years old, and I was married to the most wonderful man, George, for 25 years. He had a daughter, Susan, 34, from a previous marriage.
Our relationship with Susan used to be fine. She called me “Mom” and filled the void in my heart of not having a child of my own. I didn’t see her as “someone else’s” child. I loved her as my own daughter, you know.
When Susan got married to the man of her choice, George and I were overjoyed. But after that, everything went downhill when George was diagnosed with terminal cancer.
Susan’s visits dwindled from weekly to monthly, then stopped altogether. She barely came to see her father, occasionally calling me to ask about his condition.
One day, she asked me something that tore me apart. “How many more days does he have left to live?”
I gripped the phone tightly, my voice trembling. “Susan, your father isn’t some product with an expiry date.”
“I just want to know, Mom. I’m busy, you know that… I can’t be visiting often,” she replied.
“Busy?” I echoed, disbelief coloring my tone. “Too busy to see your dying father?”
She sighed heavily. “Look, I’ll try to visit soon, okay?”
But that “soon” never came.
Then, the day I dreaded finally arrived. The hospital called, informing me that George had passed peacefully.
I was shattered, barely able to stand as the news sunk in. My George, my beloved George, was gone.
To my shock and disappointment, Susan didn’t even attend his funeral. When I called her, she had an excuse ready.
“You know that I just delivered my baby last month, Mom,” she said, her voice oddly detached. “The doctors advised against long travel due to some health issues.”
I swallowed hard, fighting back tears. “But Susan, it’s your father’s funeral. Don’t you want to see him one last time?”
“I can’t risk my baby’s health,” she replied curtly. “You understand, right?”
I didn’t, not really, but I nodded silently, forgetting she couldn’t see me. “Of course, sweetie. Take care.”
As I hung up and sat near my husband’s coffin, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that something had fundamentally changed between us.
Six months after George’s passing, I was startled by a loud knock on my door. Opening it, I found Susan and her husband Doug, accompanied by a stern-looking man in a suit.
Susan barged in without a greeting. “Mom, we need you to sign some papers.”
I blinked, confused. “What papers?”
Doug thrust a stack of documents at me, including a blank sheet. “Just sign these. It’s for transferring all the assets into our names.”
“Excuse me?” I stepped back, my heart racing. “What are you talking about?”
Susan rolled her eyes. “Dad’s assets, Mom. We’re here to claim what’s rightfully ours.”
Their audacity left me speechless. If only George had left a will, I wouldn’t be in this mess. I would have ensured my daughter was taken care of before she even knew there was a problem.
But this? Their tone and audacity irked me. How could they think I’d just stand by and let them walk all over me?
“No,” I said firmly, finding my voice. “I want you to leave my house right now. And don’t you dare come back with such awful demands.”
Susan’s face contorted with anger. “You can’t do this! You’re not even my REAL MOTHER!”
Her words hit me like a bag of bricks. I stumbled back, tears welling in my eyes. “Susan, how can you say that? After all these years?”
“Just stick to your boundaries and pass on my father’s assets to me,” she spat.
I felt my blood pressure rising, my vision blurring with tears and rage. “Get out of my house!” I shouted. “Your father would be heartbroken if he knew what a greedy daughter you’ve become. I’m glad my George didn’t live to see this day.”
Susan launched into a tirade, her words becoming a blur of insults and demands.
“How dare you, Mariana? George was my father, not yours, and you have no right to anything here!” she yelled. “You think you can wiggle your way in here and take what’s ours? Over my dead body!”
That did it. Tears sprang from my eyes. Susan… the daughter my George and I had raised practically stabbed me with her words alone.
But no, I wouldn’t let them break me. Not me. Not Mariana.
“This is my home, and you’re not welcome! Take your greed and get out before I call the cops!” I retorted.
“Do you have any idea what you’re putting us through? You’re nothing but a greedy vulture, circling around for scraps my father left behind!” Susan barked.
“If you had an ounce of decency, you’d leave right now! But clearly, that’s asking too much!” I snapped.
“You think a few harsh words will scare us? Just sign the damn papers, lady!” Doug yelled at me.
I felt cornered by the daughter I’d loved and raised. I was furious and heartbroken.
When they refused to leave, my neighbor, hearing the commotion, rushed over. “You heard her! This isn’t your place, and you’re not welcome. Move it!” he physically escorted Susan and Doug out.
As they left, Susan’s furious voice echoed back. “This isn’t over, Mariana! You’ll regret this!”
I slumped onto the couch, my heart aching. Where had all that love we once shared vanished? How could greed twist my daughter into someone I barely recognized?
With trembling hands, I reached for George’s framed photo on the side table. Tears blurred my vision as I traced his smiling face.
“Oh, George,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Why didn’t you take me with you? I’m lost without you.”
A sob escaped my throat as I clutched the frame to my chest. “Our daughter… our sweet Susan… she’s a stranger to me now. What happened to the little girl who used to call me Mom?”
The silence of the empty house pressed in around me, amplifying my grief. I rocked back and forth, the photo cool against my tear-stained cheeks.
“I miss you so much, honey,” I choked out. “I don’t know how to face this alone.”
Susan’s calls didn’t stop after that. Day and night, my phone buzzed with her angry messages and voicemails. Finally, exhausted and desperate for peace, I decided to give in.
I met with my lawyer, determined to give Susan what she wanted and be done with it. But there was something neither of us knew.
A week later, Susan stormed into my home again, her face red with fury.
“HOW DID YOU DO THIS?” she screamed. “I only get $3,000 and an old car? What about everything else?”
I stared at her, a small smile forming on my face. “What are you talking about?”
Susan waved a paper in my face. “This! This pathetic inheritance you told the lawyer to give me! Where’s everything else?”
I took the paper from her, a small smile dancing on my lips. According to this, George only had $3,000 in his bank account, an old Mustang, and some debts.
“What about the house? The SUV? Dad’s old farmhouse?” Susan snapped.
You see, my lawyer, whom I’d called the other day, arrived and explained the situation. And this is what he said:
“Mrs. Anderson, everything the family owned is in your name. The house, the SUV, the farmhouse, everything. Mr. Anderson transferred it all to you years ago, keeping just three grand in his bank account and his old Mustang. It’s up to you now to decide the fate of these assets.”
Until the lawyer dropped the bomb, I’d assumed George had left me nothing. But no! He had made sure I’d be taken care of after he was gone. Bless his soul.
Susan’s face twisted with rage when I spilled the tea. “You’re lying! This can’t be true!” she hissed.
I looked at her, a strange calm settling over me. “Well, Susan, you wanted your father’s assets. Now you have them.”
“This isn’t fair!” she shrieked. “You tricked me!”
I looked up, a gentle smile plastered on my face. “No, Susan. I gave you exactly what you asked for… what rightfully belonged to your father. And now, I’m keeping what rightfully belongs to me.”
In the days that followed, I made a decision. I sold everything — the house, the SUV, the farmhouse, all of it. I made a decent eight figures, and bought a beautiful villa in a place I’d always dreamed of living, far from everyone.
As I settled into my new home, I received a call from an old friend back in town.
“Mariana,” she said, her voice hushed. “I thought you should know. Susan’s trying to start litigation against you.”
I sighed, unsurprised. “Let me guess, it fell through?”
“Yep. Everything was in your name, after all!”
I thanked her for the information and hung up, feeling a pang of sadness and relief.
Weeks passed, and I started to enjoy my new life. I traveled around the world, tried new hobbies, made new friends. But the peace didn’t last.
One day, my phone rang with an unfamiliar number. When I answered, I heard a man’s voice. “Mrs. Anderson? I’m calling on behalf of Susan. She wants to meet with you.”
I felt a chill run down my spine. “No,” I said firmly. “I’m not interested.”
“But Mrs. Anderson, she insists—”
I cut him off. “Tell Susan she got what she wanted. I have nothing more to say to her.”
As I ended the call, I couldn’t help but wonder why Susan was so desperate to meet now. What more could she possibly want? The fragments of my remaining peace?
I shook my head, pushing the thought away. It didn’t matter. I had a new life now, and I intended to live it to the fullest. After all, isn’t that what George would have wanted?
I Woke up to My Husband Mumbling in His Sleep – When He Finished His ‘Speech,’ I Immediately Ran to Our Garage
When I woke to my husband mumbling in his sleep, I thought it was just another strange dream. But his words, “She’s in my garage right now. You can go down and find her there,” sent a chill through me, leading to a discovery that changed everything.
It started with a whisper. I was half-asleep when I heard murmured words tumbling from Robert’s lips.
A sleepless woman in her bed | Source: Midjourney
“Yes, officer,” he said, his voice barely above a mumble. “It’s completely my fault. She’s in my garage right now. You can go down and find her there.”
My eyes shot open.
At first, I thought I’d misheard him. But then, he rolled over, still muttering something unintelligible. My heart began to race. Who was in the garage? What was he talking about?
A serious sleepless woman in her bedroom | Source: Midjourney
Robert wasn’t the type to keep secrets. He was kind, dependable, and, well, predictable. We’d been married five years.
He used to work as a veterinarian, but last year, he opened a 24-hour café in the next town. It had been his dream, though it kept him out late most nights.
A man working in his cafe | Source: Pexels
Earlier that evening, he texted me to say he’d be home late and told me to go to bed without him. That was odd. He rarely worked past midnight. But I didn’t think much of it at the time. Now, as I lay in the dark, his words hung in the air.
I sat up in bed and glanced at him. He looked peaceful, his chest rising and falling with each breath. Maybe I should just wake him and ask what he meant. But the way his words sounded so serious, almost guilty, stopped me.
A man sleeping | Source: Pexels
I slipped out of bed, careful not to wake him, and tiptoed toward the door.
The hallway was quiet. Shadows stretched across the floor, and the only sound was the faint hum of the refrigerator downstairs. My mind raced with possibilities. Could someone really be in the garage?
A woman walking in her hallway | Source: Midjourney
I reached the top of the stairs and paused. My hand rested on the railing, and for a moment, I considered going back to bed. Maybe it was just a dream. But what if it wasn’t?
As I descended the stairs, the cold air from the garage seeped under the door, making me shiver. The closer I got, the more I felt a tightness in my chest.
A door in the hallway | Source: Midjourney
The door to the garage creaked as I opened it.
Inside, it was darker than I expected. The single bulb above the workbench barely lit the room, casting long shadows over the concrete floor.
Robert’s car sat in the middle of the space, its hood dented. My breath caught.
A dented car | Source: Midjourney
That wasn’t there yesterday.
The air smelled faintly of oil and something musky and wild.
Then I heard it.
A low, rasping sound, like heavy breathing, coming from the far corner of the garage. My body froze, and for a moment, I couldn’t move. The sound was rhythmic, almost like an animal panting.
A nervous woman in a garage | Source: Midjourney
“Hello?” I whispered, my voice trembling.
No response.
I forced myself to take a step forward. Then another. My feet felt like lead as I moved closer to the corner.
A nervous woman | Source: Midjourney
As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I saw a small, shadowy figure curled up on a pile of blankets. It didn’t move at first, but as I got closer, I could make out its shape.
It was a fox.
Its reddish fur was matted, and its body seemed frail. It lifted its head slightly, its dark eyes meeting mine. The shallow and labored breathing I’d heard was coming from the fox.
A fox sleeping in a garage | Source: Midjourney
Relief washed over me. It wasn’t a person. But then, a new wave of worry set in. Why was there an injured fox in my garage?
I crouched down, careful not to get too close. The fox’s ears twitched, and it let out a soft whimper.
“You poor thing,” I murmured.
A fox looking up | Source: Midjourney
It looked so weak and could barely hold itself up.
I stood and backed away slowly, my mind spinning with questions. That’s when I decided to head to the kitchen. Maybe some water would help. Maybe…
I turned toward the door, leaving the fox in the corner, and quietly made my way back inside the house.
A woman in a garage | Source: Midjourney
I poured water into a shallow bowl and headed back toward the garage, my mind still reeling. As I rounded the corner into the kitchen, I nearly dropped the bowl.
Robert stood there, rubbing his eyes, his hair sticking up in every direction. “What are you doing up?” he asked, his voice groggy.
I froze for a second, unsure how to start. “Uh… there’s a fox. In the garage.”
A sleepy man in the kitchen | Source: Midjourney
His eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked like a kid caught sneaking cookies. “You saw her?”
“Her?” I raised an eyebrow. “Robert, what is going on?”
He sighed and leaned against the counter, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, okay. Don’t freak out. I was driving home, and this fox darted out onto the road. I didn’t see her in time. I hit her.”
A sad man in the kitchen | Source: Midjourney
“You hit her?” My voice rose. “With the car?”
“Yes,” he said quickly, holding up his hands. “It wasn’t too bad — just a bump. She was still alive, so I took her to the clinic where I used to work. They checked her out and said she’d be fine, but she needed to be watched for a few days.”
A man holding a fox | Source: Midjourney
“Robert…” I started, but he cut me off.
“I know, I know. You hate the idea of animals in the house. But she wouldn’t stop crying when I tried to leave her there. I couldn’t just leave her. You know how much I love animals.”
I softened a little at his tone. He sounded so earnest, so guilty.
A smiling woman talking to her husband | Source: Midjourney
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, setting the bowl of water on the counter.
“I didn’t want to wake you. And then I figured it might be better to, uh, explain later.”
I crossed my arms. “So you brought her home and decided to stash her in the garage?”
He grinned sheepishly. “I panicked.”
A man with a small smile talking to his wife | Source: Midjourney
Despite myself, I laughed. “You panicked?”
“Yeah. And I guess that explains the weird dream about the cop,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “I must’ve been stressed about the car damage. In my dream, they were accusing me of hitting a person!”
The police questioning a man | Source: Midjourney
I couldn’t help but laugh again, shaking my head. “You’re impossible, Robert.”
He stepped closer, his expression softening. “I’m sorry. Really. I just couldn’t leave her. I thought I’d take care of her for a few days and then release her. If you want, I can take her somewhere else tomorrow.”
A happy couple talking | Source: Midjourney
I looked at him, at the way his shoulders sagged under the weight of his guilt. “Let’s just make sure she’s okay for now. But you owe me big time.”
His face lit up. “Deal.”
A smiling man talking to his wife | Source: Midjourney
The next few days were a whirlwind of learning how to care for a wild animal. We took turns feeding the fox small amounts of food and making sure she had plenty of water. Robert even dug out an old space heater to keep the garage warm for her.
At first, I kept my distance, letting Robert handle most of the care. But one evening, as I was checking on her, the fox lifted her head and let out a soft, almost thankful sound. It melted something in me.
A woman sitting next to a fox | Source: Midjourney
“She likes you,” Robert said, leaning in the doorway.
“Maybe,” I said, smiling.
By the end of the week, the fox was stronger. She could stand and even walk a few steps. Robert and I would sit in the garage, watching as she cautiously explored her little corner.
A fox walking | Source: Midjourney
“You’re really good with her,” I told him one night.
He shrugged. “It’s nothing. I just… I’ve always felt a connection to animals, you know? They don’t expect much — just kindness.”
I nodded, realizing for the first time how much his love for animals said about his character.
A woman talking to her husband | Source: Midjourney
Two weeks later, it was time to let her go.
We drove to a nearby forest where Robert had hit her, the fox nestled in a crate in the backseat. She seemed calm. It was as if she knew what was happening.
When we opened the crate, she hesitated for a moment before stepping out. She sniffed the air, then turned to look at us.
A fox coming out of the crate | Source: Midjourney
“Go on,” Robert said softly.
The fox took a few steps, then stopped. She turned back and, to my surprise, nuzzled her head against Robert’s leg before darting into the trees.
I blinked back tears. “She’s going to be okay, isn’t she?”
Robert nodded. “Yeah. She’ll be okay.”
A happy couple in the woods | Source: Midjourney
From that day on, we made it a habit to visit the forest. Each time, the fox would appear, bounding through the underbrush to greet us. She’d rub against our legs, her way of saying thank you.
Looking back, I never would’ve imagined that a sleepless night and a strange mumbling dream would lead to a bond with a wild fox and a deeper connection to the man I married.
A fox nuzzling against a man’s feet | Source: Midjourney
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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