I Thought My Husband Was Hiding a Gift for Me—Until I Saw My Stepmother Wearing It
When my dad passed away last year, it felt like the soul of our family home left with him. He had built that house with his own hands, and every corner still smelled faintly of pine and fresh paint. After the funeral, my husband, Jason, our six-year-old daughter, Emma, and I moved in to help my stepmother, Lorraine.
Lorraine, who had been married to my dad for five years, made sure everyone knew she had been his “rock” during his final days.
“You can’t deny it, darling,” she said to me at the funeral reception. “If I’d gone on that Thailand trip, your father would have died alone. Poor thing.”
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