After my husband Eric died, my world shattered. I could barely breathe, but I had to stay strong for our daughter, Lila. I moved in with Eric’s mother, Sylvia, thinking we could lean on each other. I believed we’d help each other heal.
But then one day, I overheard something that made my blood run cold.
“I’ll take you from her,” Sylvia whispered to my daughter when she thought I wasn’t listening.
That’s when I knew — I had to fight. No matter how broken I felt, I wasn’t going to lose my child too.
I stood at the edge of Eric’s grave, holding Lila in my arms. Her little fists clung tightly to my coat. The wind blew hard, tugging at my clothes and hair, but I didn’t feel it. My whole body was numb.
Behind me, the priest said something about peace and eternal rest, but his voice sounded distant, like it was coming from deep underwater.
The coffin had already been lowered. I couldn’t stop staring at it. My knees trembled as I thought, I want to be in there with him.
Eric. My love. My partner. My best friend. The man I built my life with — shared laughter, tears, fights, dreams, and parenthood with. And now he was just… gone.
The world kept moving. Cars still drove by. Birds still flew. But my world had stopped.
Lila whimpered against me. Her small, scared voice broke through my haze.
“Mommy… why are they putting Daddy in the ground? He won’t be able to breathe.”
My throat tightened. I bent down and kissed her warm, soft head.
“He’s not hurting anymore, sweetheart,” I whispered. “He’s just… resting now.”
“But it’s so dark down there,” she sobbed. “He’ll be cold. Please don’t let them do this to him.”
I held her tighter. I wanted to protect her, to make this pain disappear. But I couldn’t. Not this time.
We drove home in silence. Sylvia sat in the passenger seat like a statue. Lila cried herself to sleep in the back.
I carried my daughter into the house Eric and I had built together. The moment I stepped inside, I felt his absence wrap around me like a heavy blanket. His scent still lingered. His keys still hung on the hook by the door. Every step I took reminded me he was gone.
“I’ll make some tea,” Sylvia said softly, pulling off her gloves.
I nodded and brought Lila to bed. She didn’t even stir. I tucked her in and gently stroked her hair, standing there for a long time, just watching her breathe. That soft rise and fall of her chest was the only thing keeping me going.
Back in the kitchen, Sylvia had already set the tea. I sat down slowly, pressing my trembling hands against my face. I didn’t want her to see me falling apart.
“You won’t be able to handle this alone, Dana,” she said quietly, placing a hand on my back.
“I don’t have a choice,” I muttered. My voice cracked like glass.
“There is a choice. You and Lila can move in with me.”
I blinked. I wasn’t expecting that. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Memories flashed in my mind. The cold way she looked at me when Eric first brought me home. How she called me “that girl” like I was some dirty secret. I came from a working-class family. She came from money and strict traditions. She never thought I was enough for her son.
She noticed my silence. “I know it’s not easy,” she said. “But this house will haunt you. Every corner will remind you of him. My home is quiet. Peaceful. You’ll have support there.”
I still wasn’t ready to agree, but I didn’t have the strength to say no.
“Okay,” I whispered. “We’ll come.”
Sylvia’s house was cold but spotless. She had already set up a room for me, and another for Lila. Lila’s room was decorated like a fairy tale — new bedding, fluffy toys, and colorful drawings on the walls.
At first, I thought it was sweet. But then I noticed something strange.
“Why isn’t she next to my room?” I asked.
“Oh, it just worked out that way,” Sylvia replied quickly. “It doesn’t matter — we’re all under the same roof now.”
It did matter. Something in my stomach twisted. But I was too tired to fight.
That night, Lila cried herself to sleep in my bed. She clung to me like a lifeline. Her little body trembled as she sobbed, “Don’t leave me, Mommy.”
I didn’t move all night. I just held her, watching the ceiling, listening to her breathe.
The next morning, Sylvia caught me in the hallway.
“You shouldn’t sleep in the same bed with her,” she said in a cold, firm voice.
“She needed me,” I said. “I needed her.”
“You’re only making it worse. She’ll be too attached.”
“It’s temporary.”
“I’m hiring a nanny. Full-time. Starting today.”
I stared at her. “No. I’ll take care of my own daughter.”
She shook her head. “You need rest. You won’t be any good to her if you’re falling apart.”
I didn’t answer. I just walked away, fists clenched.
Over the next few weeks, something terrifying began to happen. Lila started to change. She pulled away from me.
At first it was small — refusing my hugs, asking for Grandma instead of me. Then it got worse.
One day, she looked me in the eyes and said, “I don’t need you.”
My heart cracked wide open.
That evening, I confronted Sylvia.
“Something’s wrong. She’s not herself. Why is she acting like this?”
Sylvia didn’t even blink. “Children grieve in different ways. Maybe she just doesn’t want to be around you right now.”
But I knew that wasn’t it. There was a shadow between me and my daughter, and that shadow had Sylvia’s name.
That night, I tried to tuck Lila in. When I entered her room, she screamed.
“No! I don’t want you! I want Grandma!”
“Sweetheart, please—”
“Get out!” she sobbed. “I don’t want you!”
I stumbled out of the room, shattered. I collapsed in the hallway, covering my mouth so no one would hear my sobs.
Sylvia appeared, calm as ever. “What’s going on?”
“She doesn’t want me,” I whispered.
“I’ll take care of it,” she said. “You go rest.”
But I didn’t rest. I stood quietly outside the door and listened.
Sylvia’s voice was soft and syrupy. “Don’t worry, baby. It’s going to be okay.”
Then her voice dropped to a whisper.
“I will take you from her.”
Lila’s voice shook. “Because she’s a bad mommy?”
“Yes,” Sylvia answered. “She’s not good for you.”
I felt like the air had been punched out of my lungs.
When Sylvia came out, I was standing there.
“Are you out of your mind?!” I screamed.
She raised an eyebrow. “Keep your voice down. You’ll wake her.”
“You’re trying to take my daughter from me!”
She didn’t deny it. “She’s all I have left. And yes, Dana. I will take her. You have nothing — no job, no house, no proof of anything.”
I stood there, shaking. “That’s not true. Eric signed the house over to us.”
She smirked. “Then go find the paperwork. Oh wait — it’s gone.”
That night, I didn’t sleep. I lay there, eyes wide open, planning my next move. I had nothing but a few funds Eric left behind — not enough for a court fight. But I couldn’t let her win.
In the morning, Sylvia called me to the living room. A man in a suit stood waiting.
“This is my attorney,” she said. “We’ve filed for custody.”
I felt sick. “Why? Lila is right here!”
“I tolerated you for Eric’s sake,” she said coldly. “But now I can fix everything.”
I ran to the bedroom and started searching like a madwoman. Then I found it — a business card. Kline. Attorney at Law.
I called. His voice was calm. “It’s happening, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Come in.”
At his office, Kline greeted me kindly.
“She’s trying to take Lila,” I said, trembling. “She destroyed the deed.”
Kline reached into his drawer and pulled out a folder. Inside were copies of the deed and Eric’s will.
“Eric suspected this might happen,” he said. “He gave me these just in case. Everything is legally yours.”
“Can I win?” I asked.
“You will win.”
At the custody hearing, Sylvia’s lawyer painted me as unstable, weak, and unfit.
Then Kline stood up. Calm. Confident.
“Your Honor, my client and her husband lived in the home together. We have notarized documents showing the property was Eric’s. His will clearly leaves everything to his wife and child.”
The courtroom buzzed. Sylvia’s face twisted.
The judge ruled in my favor.
Outside, Sylvia came up to me, seething. “How did you do this?”
“Eric knew who you were,” I said. “And he protected us.”
“This isn’t over,” she hissed.
“Yes, it is. And you’re never coming near my daughter again.”
I picked Lila up and held her close.
“You’re not giving me away, right?” she asked. “Grandma said—”
“Never,” I said, kissing her forehead. “I fought so no one could ever take you from me.”
She threw her arms around me.
We drove home. Our home. The one Eric left for us. The one I would protect. The one where I would raise Lila with all the strength he always believed I had.
