My mother-in-law made me sleep on the floor of the garage after my husband's death – she didn't expect to beg me to help her a month later

I used to believe that love could protect me from everything. That my husband, James, would always be there to catch up with me if I fell.

When he asked me to leave my career in finance to become a stay-at-home mother, he promised me that I would never have to worry about anything. I loved him, so I agreed.

We had twins, Grace and Ella, who became our whole world.

And then he died.

The call came on a gray afternoon. James had rushed home from a business trip, eager to see us. The roads were slippery and his car slipped on the highway. The officer on the phone kept talking, saying things as an instant impact and no suffering.

But all I heard was the sound of my own heart beating in my ears.

The days got drunk. The funeral took place and ended. I clung to my daughters, to the last voice message that James had left me, listening to him just to hear his voice.

I thought losing it was the worst thing that could happen to me.

I was wrong.

I spent hours in the cemetery after the funeral. I had just wanted a few more moments with my husband before returning to reality.

Judith, my mother-in-law, had brought the girls home.

"We'll talk when you come back," she said. "I'm going to take the baths of the binoculars and install them."

When I returned from the funeral, Judith was waiting for me.

She sat in the living room, with her back straight, her hands crossed on her lap, staring at me with the same cold gaze and calculated that she still had.

"This house belongs to me, April," she said. "I let James and you live here, but now I'm taking her back."

I had my breath cut off. I had the impression that someone had just pushed me.

"Judith, I..."

I thought I had misheard it.

"What? ”

She expired suddenly, as if she was already bored with the conversation.

"James never changed the deed of ownership," she said. “I gave him the option after the twins were born, but he never followed up. So the house is still in my name. You can stay there. But you'll sleep in the garage. ”

I stared at her, in search of a glimmer of humanity. A sign that she was talking about pain, that she was going to retract from one second to the next.

But she didn't.

She sat there, waiting for me to crack.

She wanted me to beg her. I knew she wanted it.

I looked at my daughters, their big innocent, sleeping eyes looking at me from the couch. They had already lost their father. I couldn't let them lose their house too.

So I agreed.

The garage smelled oil and rust. At night, the cold was insinuated through the thin camping mattress and the quilt on which I slept. The cold infiltrated my bones every night. When it became too unbearable, I would reckon in the back seat of the car, with my arms rolled around me to warm myself up.

I thought it was temporary.

James had left money for us, but legal things take time. And I had to be patient. Because until the lawyer had finished everything, I had nothingrien.

No work, no access to our accounts, nowhere to go.

And even though I had someone to call, I couldn't imagine saying words out loud. Shame would have stifled me.

I existed in silence. I only entered the house to cook and eat with the girls. To do their laundry and kiss them to wish them good night. I was moving into my own house like a stranger.

Today, even a month later, Judith barely recognizes me. Why would she do it? She had won.

One afternoon, I was sitting in the living room with my daughters. The coloured pencils were rolling on the coffee table, scattering in all directions. Grace and Ella were sitting on the floor, with their legs crossed, their little hands gripping the colors of their choice, with their faces crawled by deep concentration.

"I draw dad's eyes in blue. said Grace, leaning hard on the paper. "Like the Ocean."

She turned her head, studying her drawing.

"Men is smiling. Dad was still smiling," she said, with a smile on her face.

I swallowed the ball I had in my throat.

"That's true," I whispered.

The air was thick, heavy on the weight of the unsaid. The only sounds were the scratching of the pencil on the paper and the occasional drag of small feet on the carpet.

I would pass my fingers on the edge of a blank sheet, trying not to lose the thread.

Then Ella spoke.

"Mom?" ”

I looked up.

"Yes, baby?" What's wrong? ”

She hesitated, biting her lower lip.

"Why are you sleeping in the garage?" ”

My hands came to a standstill.

Grace raised her eyes too, her expression was open and confident. It was the same expression that James had when he wanted the girls to tell him about their nightmares.

"Yes," she said. "Grandmother is sleeping in your bed." Why don't you sleep there? ”

A sharp and twisted pain has settled in my chest.

I forced a smile, folding a lock of hair behind Ella's ear.

“Because sometimes adults have to make tough decisions, my little daughters. It is not always pleasant, but there is always a more important reason. ”

She frowns her eyebrows. I could see thoughts formulated in his head.

"But you're dad's wife," she said simply.

These words chased away the air from my lungs.

"I am," I whispered. "I'm dad's wife, yes."

Grace looked up at me, waiting. I hadn't realized that my daughters were clinging to these thoughts.

"So why doesn't grandmother have the big bed? ”

I opened my mouth, but no words came.

A crackling sounded in the corridor. I looked up, and there, right behind the corner...

Judith stood.

She wasn't looking at me. She was looking at them.

His hands clinged the frame of the door, his face was pale, and his lips formed a thin line. For the first time, she looked like a woman who had made a terrible mistake.

But she did not say a word.

She stayed there, to listen to. And as I wasn't answering my daughters, she turned around and walked away.

And then, one evening, we knocked on the garage door. I opened and found Judith standing.

But it was not the same woman that had banished me. For the first time in a long time, I looked at it.

His usually impeccable hair was hair-drenched, the grey locks more pronounced. His face, always so rigid and controlled, was pale and dug. His lips were dry and cracked.

And his hands... his hands were trembling in an uncontrolled manner.

I frown.

Had she always been so skinny? I cooked every day, making sure that there was more than enough food for all four of us. Hadn't Judith eaten?

She swallowed with difficulty, and when she spoke, her voice cracked.

"April, please. ”

I said nothing.

She blinked quickly, as if she was trying to hold back her tears.

"I made a terrible mistake. ”

I waited.

She expired shaking and then whispered.

"I'm sick," she said.

Her lips came closer, and for the first time I saw something I had never seen in her before.

Fear.

I should have felt justified. I should have savored the moment she stood before me, desperate and vulnerable. But all I felt was exhaustion.

"What do you want?" I asked, the voice digged.

His hands clenched in fists along his body.

"The doctors say it's serious. And I can't help thinking that maybe... maybe that's my punishment. ”

I'm kissing my arms. I can't believe what I hear.

"For what?" For throwing your widow's daughter-in-law in a garage? ”

She shuddered, as if I had slapped her.

"For everything, April. For the way I treated you, honey. For the way I've pushed people away. ”

The silence has taken hold between us.

Then she searched her coat and pulled out a pile of papers.

"I transferred the house to you and to the girls, April," she said. "She's yours now." Officially. As it should always have been. ”

"Why?" My stomach tightened.

"Because I don't have anyone else. ”

I stared at the papers in my hands. That is what I was expecting, proof that I had never had to beg. That I would never have to fear being thrown away again.