After My Grandma’s Death, My Husband Rushed Me to Sell Her House — When I Learned the Reason, I Was Furious and Made Him Regret It

I was staring at the photograph on her nightstand. Grandma was holding me as a baby, and we were both laughing. Her laughter echoed in my mind, soft and kind.

As I stood up to leave, I heard someone call my name.

I turned to see Mrs. Callahan, Grandma’s longtime neighbor, standing just outside the gate. She must’ve been in her 70s, thin and small, always wearing cardigans no matter the season.

She looked nervous.

“Mrs. Callahan,” I greeted her, walking over.

She glanced behind me at Paul, then stepped in closer.

“I wasn’t sure if I should say anything,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “But your grandmother asked me to give you this.

She said to wait until… until after.”

She slipped something into my hand, a small brass key. It was old-fashioned and cold against my skin.

I stared at it, puzzled.

“The attic key?”

Mrs. Callahan nodded slowly. Her eyes looked wet, like she’d been holding something in for too long.

“What do you mean by that?

What was my husband doing here?” I asked.

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