After My Husband Died, My MIL Donated All My Furniture While I Was in the Hospital – Karma Didn’t Just Knock, It Kicked the Door Down

I even called her, but she never answered. Then I called my neighbor Lila, with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking. “Lila, can you check my house?” I whispered.

“Please, just tell me what’s there.”

There was a long pause. The kind of pause that means something’s very wrong. Moments later, Lila said, “Oh my God.

It’s… It’s empty. I saw a truck earlier.”

Apparently, Marjorie had shown up with a church donation truck while I was unconscious.

She told them I was “emotionally unstable” and had donated everything. When I was discharged early against medical advice because I was hysterical, Lila drove me home. I made her unlock the door because my hands wouldn’t work properly.

Nothing prepared me for what I saw when I walked in. There was no couch, coffee table, or bookshelves. The dining room where Calder and I had eaten breakfast that last morning was stripped bare.

Our bedroom held nothing but a bare floor where our bed used to be. The kitchen cabinets hung open and hollow. My grandmother’s china… gone.

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