Then I Saw Her
Three months after the funeral, I saw Doris again.
She stepped out of a luxury SUV at the high-end mall like she owned the world. Designer coat. Oversized sunglasses. Gold bracelets clinking on her wrist.
I froze. The woman who used to count coupons at the supermarket now looked like she hosted charity galas in Bel Air.
Something was wrong.
I confronted her. “Where did you get the money?”
She smirked, eyes hidden behind those ridiculous shades. “It’s none of your business.”
But it was. Because Zach had always said he was saving for our future. Not hers.
