“Mama, I have nowhere else to go,” she said through tears. “It’s only temporary… until I find a job here.”
I didn’t hesitate. I stepped aside and let her in.
For the first few days, it felt like life had returned to the house. Laughter echoed through the halls again. Tiny footsteps ran across the wooden floors. I cooked warm meals like I used to when Sophie was a child, helped with homework, and read bedtime stories until her children fell asleep in my arms.
One evening, Sophie looked at me with exhausted gratitude.
“Mama, you saved me.”
For a moment, I believed it too. I believed we were becoming a family again.
But that illusion didn’t last long.
Two weeks later, something changed in her tone. Not all at once—but like a slow poison spreading through the air.
