After my husband’s death, I moved in with my mother-in-law for the sake of my daughter, hoping we could support each other through our grief. But one day, I overheard her whisper to my little girl, “I’ll take you from her.” That chilling moment made it clear I had to fight for my family.At the graveside, I held my daughter tightly, feeling the cold wind brush past us.
The priest’s words sounded distant and muffled as I watched the coffin lowered into the ground. My body was numb, and all I could think about was Eric—the man I had built a life with, shared laughter, tears, and raised our daughter alongside. He was gone, leaving an emptiness no words could fill.Though my heart ached, I knew I had to stay strong for Lila. She had lost her father, and I had to be her rock.
