You never expect your own child to treat you like a stranger, but that’s what happened with Stuart. I thought it was just him growing up and getting busy.
I missed the boy who used to bring me daisies and help without asking.
When he called about hosting a small birthday party at my house, I was surprised by his warm tone. I agreed, thinking maybe things could improve between us.
That night, I didn’t hear loud music, and I hoped things were getting better. But when I returned home, I found the house trashed—windows broken, furniture destroyed, and burn marks on the walls. There was a note from Stuart: “We had a bit of a wild party to say goodbye to our youth. You might need to tidy up a little.”
I called him over and over, but he ignored me. After leaving a voicemail filled with anger and hurt, I started cleaning up, shaken by the damage.
Later, Martha, my neighbor, found me cleaning and insisted I come over to talk. She shared that she was moving to a retirement community and had planned to give Stuart her house. But after seeing how he treated mine, she changed her mind and decided to give it to me instead.
Stuart stormed in, thinking he could charm Martha into giving him her estate, but she refused. He yelled, and in the end, he stormed out, angry and hateful.
Martha reassured me, telling me I deserved the gift. It was the biggest gift of my life, but the knowledge of how Stuart had treated me left a bittersweet feeling. I wasn’t sure if I could ever fully be happy with what had happened.
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