When my parents passed away in a car accident, my world collapsed. I thought grief would come all at once, but it crept in slowly — the quiet house, the sleepless nights, the emptiness at every corner. I was still trying to cope when the will was read, and my aunt Dina, who barely spoke to us, was shockingly named the heir to our house.

Dina wasted no time showing up, demanding I leave within a day. Heartbroken and lost, I packed my things, preparing to walk away from the only home I had ever known. Just as I was leaving, a black limousine pulled up, and my Uncle Mike stepped out. He revealed Dina had forged the will and brought proof along with the police. Dina was taken away for fraud right on the porch.

Three months later, the court ruled in my favor. My parents had never left a will, so the house legally belonged to me. Dina lost everything, including her false claims, and moved away. Uncle Mike supported me through it all, even suing Dina for the trouble she caused.

Now, I’m slowly rebuilding my life. The house is filled with new plants and the smell of cinnamon again. The peace lily my mom loved bloomed last week — a quiet reminder of resilience and hope. Even though I still miss my parents, I finally feel like I’m home.