My Mother Left Me Her House, but Only If I Let My Brother Move in – on Christmas Morning, Everything Finally Made Sense

Our first Christmas without Mom.

I decorated mostly for the kids. The tree leaned a little. Half the lights didn’t work.

Whatever. They loved it.

Three days before Christmas, the doorbell rang.

I opened the door and saw a small brown package on the mat.

The return address made my chest tighten.

It was Mom’s name. In her careful handwriting.

I picked it up.

The box was light. My hands weren’t.

Behind me, Quentin appeared in the hallway. His eyes landed on the writing.

His expression shut down.

I couldn’t open it then.

I carried it to the tree and slid it underneath.

It sat there like a bomb.

Every time I walked past, I felt it pulling at me.

On Christmas morning, the kids launched themselves onto my bed before dawn.

“Presents!” Mia yelled.

“Mom, get up!” Leo added, climbing onto my stomach.

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