Jen’s husband, David, and his mom, Margaret, took off to Dubai with cash from Jennifer’s wallet, leaving her stuck at home with the kids

“Grandma didn’t want me to sell it.” “But she won’t know,” Margaret scoffed. “And you could use the cash.

David mentioned wanting to upgrade the car.” Jennifer shot her husband a look. He chewed intently, avoiding her eyes.

“We haven’t discussed that,” she said, keeping her tone even. “But you should.” Margaret flashed her signature smile.

Lips stretched, eyes cold. “David, honey, you wanted a new car. Jenny’s inheritance is perfect timing.”

“Mom, not now,” David muttered, still not looking at his wife. “When, then?” Margaret pressed. “It’s a good neighborhood, you could get a nice sum.

Enough for a car and a vacation. We could all go somewhere together, let the kids breathe some ocean air.” “I’m not selling the apartment,” Jennifer set down her fork.

“Not now, at least. And I’d like David and me to decide these things ourselves.” “Of course, of course,” Margaret pursed her lips.

“I was just suggesting. Trying to help.” Dinner continued in tense silence, broken only by Emily’s chatter and Tommy’s smacking.

After dinner, Jennifer washed dishes when David approached. “You were too hard on Mom,” he said quietly. “She was just giving advice.”

“That wasn’t advice, David,” Jennifer dried her hands on a towel. “That was an attempt to control my inheritance. Mine, not ours.”

“Come on,” he grimaced. “What’s the difference? We’re family.” “And she’s right, money would help.

Especially now, with all our expenses.” “That’s exactly why I don’t want to sell. You know how much we need for Tommy’s surgery?” “You’re exaggerating,” David rubbed his nose.

“Doctors say he’s doing okay. And we have insurance, subsidies.” “Which don’t cover everything,” Jennifer raised her voice but caught herself, remembering the kids next door.

“Look, I don’t want to fight. Just understand, this is my grandmother’s legacy, and I want to honor her wishes.” “Fine,” David raised his hands in surrender.

“Do what you want. Just don’t upset Mom, she meant well.” Jennifer only nodded.

Her throat felt tight. She suddenly felt exhausted. After tucking in the kids, she sat by Tommy’s crib, stroking his dark hair.

He slept, breathing softly, so small and vulnerable. At three, he’d already endured more than some adults. She leaned down, kissed his forehead, and listened to his breathing.

That night, Jennifer couldn’t sleep. David breathed evenly beside her, but she stared at the ceiling, thinking about the future. Her grandmother’s apartment was like a backup plan, an extra door that could open if needed.

And Jennifer felt that door would come in handy someday. “Mind if I take my old sewing machine?” Margaret asked over breakfast, as Jennifer and David prepared to leave for work. “Sewing machine?” Jennifer didn’t follow.

“Yeah, a vintage Singer, foot-pedal one. I left it in my old place when I sold it. Thought the new owners would toss it, but it’s still there.

I called the realtor yesterday, and he said the machine’s intact, and the new owners don’t mind giving it back. So why ask me?” Jennifer was still confused. “Well, I need to pick it up, but there’s nowhere to store it.

You know how tight space is here.” Margaret gestured at the cramped kitchen. “So I thought, maybe we could keep it in your grandma’s apartment? There’s plenty of room, and no one’s living there.”

Jennifer felt a wave of irritation. Classic tactic: first a sewing machine, then something else, and soon it’s “since my stuff’s there, maybe I’ll move in for a bit.” “Sorry, Margaret, but I don’t want to turn the apartment into storage.

I need to clear out a lot of stuff first.” “But it’s just one machine.” Margaret threw up her hands.

“An antique, mind you.” “Why throw it out? It can sit in a corner, won’t bother anyone.” “No,” Jennifer said firmly.

“I want to figure out my plans for the apartment first.” She saw Margaret’s face change. The sweet smile vanished, her eyes narrowed.

“How rude,” Margaret pursed her lips. “I was just asking a favor. Is it so hard to help your husband’s mother?” “It’s not about difficulty,” Jennifer kept her voice steady….