Eli and I had been together for almost 16 years. We met in college, and after his ultra-conservative family found out he was gay, they disowned him without hesitation. My parents opened their doors to him, gave him a room, and helped him finish his degree.
We were never married – mostly because Eli never liked labels – but we built a life together. About nine years ago, he managed to buy a modest cottage on the edge of town. I helped renovate it.
It was our dream home. Five years ago, Eli was diagnosed with ALS. At first, he could still move around, but things got worse fast.
I quit my job to become his full-time caregiver. And when his savings ran low, I started paying the bills – including the mortgage. He passed in early April.
I wasn’t ready to let go. I still sleep on his side of the bed sometimes. Then, three weeks ago, I got a knock on the door.
It was his older brother and his sister – people I hadn’t seen since Eli’s graduation. Behind them stood a sharply dressed woman in stilettos holding a manila folder. “You’ve had your time,” his brother said.
“This was Eli’s house. Blood family takes priority now. Hand over the keys.”
I was stunned for a moment.
Then I remembered something Eli told me, months before he passed. He had rewritten his will. They thought they were being smart, bringing a lawyer.
They didn’t know that I had passed the bar seven years ago – I just never practiced because Eli needed me more. “Funny,” I said, walking over to the coffee table and pulling out a thick envelope. “He did leave something for you.”
The lawyer looked surprised.
His sister grinned. “See? Told you.
He wouldn’t forget us.”
They opened the envelope and pulled out the letter he had written. As they read, their expressions darkened. “This is ridiculous!” the brother barked.
“This doesn’t even mention the house!”
“Oh, I think you missed the second page,” I said, and gently slid it toward them. The sister snatched it and scanned quickly. Then her face turned red.
“You can’t be serious,” she said, glaring at me. “We deserve something. You’re not even family!”
I folded my arms.
“You’re right. So I’ll give you what you came for… under one condition.”
There was silence. I stepped toward the hallway and returned with a small, locked metal box – Eli’s safe.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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