had distrusted.
He became Richard.
Lonely.
Gentle.
Kind.
And completely willing to let Emily decorate his gray hair with pink ribbons.
Then my landlord called.
He told me I had one month to move out.
I begged him for more time.
“My husband just died. I have a daughter. I have a steady job now. Please.”
He refused.
When the call ended, I stood alone in the pantry, holding my phone against my chest.
I had fought so hard to give Emily a home.
And once again, that home was about to disappear.
Then I heard a floorboard creak behind me.
I turned.
Nobody was there.
I didn’t think much of it.
I had enough problems already.
A few weeks later, I arrived at Richard’s estate and immediately noticed something strange.
Fresh flowers.
Candles.
Soft music.
The entire house looked like it was prepared for a celebration.
Richard hadn’t mentioned
