Three days ago, my bathroom started leaking. It wasn’t dramatic at first. Just a slow, stubborn drip that echoed in the silence. One drop. Then another. By the time midnight arrived, the sound felt louder than it should have, filling the apartment the way Benjamin’s absence always did. Three days ago, my bathroom started leaking. The pipe was hidden in the far corner under the sink, tucked away like it didn’t want to be found. I pressed a towel against it. Then another. I crouched there in my pajamas, hair

Every week, my neighbor knocked over my trash bins and scattered garbage all over my lawn. I tried talking to him. He lied. I confronted him. He smirked. I’m a single mom, barely holding everything together, and I didn’t have time for his games. So I stopped talking and started planning. Trust me—he never saw it coming. I’m 33 years old, raising two kids alone in a house that’s falling apart faster than I can fix it. My ex left just three weeks after our youngest was born. No explanation.

At 92 years old, I never thought I’d still be standing. By then, everyone I had ever loved was gone. My husband.My children.My sisters and brothers. Cancer took some of them. Accidents took others. And time… time finished the rest. What I had left was money. A lot of money. And a department store I had built from nothing when I was 42. Four full floors. A café that smelled like fresh bread every morning. Perfume counters glowing under soft lights. Fancy brands with names I still couldn’t pronounce even