ments stamped with signatures and seals.
“What is this, Melissa?” I asked, dread rising in my chest.
Her smile faltered. “June, I can explain,” she began, her tone coaxing as she turned to Emma. “Sweetheart, this house was meant for us. Your father bought it for our family. Right?”
“I guess,” Emma murmured, blinking.
“Exactly. So doesn’t it make sense for me to handle it now? If you sign those papers, I can sell this place and move us somewhere better. Somewhere new and glamorous. You don’t have to stay stuck here in this small town with all this junk. You and I could finally live the life we deserve.”
The room fell silent. It was suddenly clear—Melissa hadn’t come back for her daughter. She’d come to take from her.
Emma’s hands trembled as she held the documents, but her voice was strong.
“You think a dress makes you my mother? You think you deserve this house when Grandma has worked herself half to death paying for it and raising me alone?”
“Sweetheart, that’s not—”
“You left me!” Emma cried. “And now you probably need money to keep up some charade. But I see the truth. You came to the wrong place. This is my house. I’m eighteen now. Grandma is my only family. This house is ours!”
With that, Emma ripped the papers into shreds.
Melissa’s polished smile crumbled. Rage twisted her features.
“Ungrateful brat,” she hissed, snatching up her purse. “You’ll regret this when you’re stuck in your twenties, broke and caring for a dying old woman.”
I gasped, furious, but before I could unleash the words on my tongue, she grabbed the garment bag. Her heels clattered like gunfire as she stormed out and slammed the door behind her.
At once, Emma wrapped her arms around me. Relief flooded me. That chapter was closed.
The next evening, prom night arrived. Emma smoothed her blue dress in front of the mirror, smiling with determination.
“Ready, Grandma?”
I picked up my car keys, and together we walked to my old sedan. I dropped her off at school and wished her the best time.
Just past midnight, I heard gravel crunch in the driveway. One of her friends had given her a ride home. I went out to meet her.
Emma climbed the porch steps, curls loose and mascara smudged, but her smile glowed brighter than any star.
“How was it, honey?”
She hugged me tightly, whispering into my shoulder, “I was the most beautiful girl there. Because of you.”
We sat together on the porch while she told me everything.
Instead of mocking her dress, her friends had praised it as unique and unforgettable. She had laughed, danced, and cherished every moment.
“This was the best night ever,” she said before heading inside to rest.
I lingered outside, thinking of the future.
This was the first night of the rest of her life. With a partial scholarship to study architecture, Emma would start college in the fall, but she would keep living here with me.
After all my sacrifices, I had raised another good soul who didn’t care about money or appearances. She was just like Mark. And this house was hers.
I only hoped Melissa never tried to disrupt that again.
Source: thecelebritist.com
This story is inspired by real events and people, but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental
