I Married An Older Woman For Stability — After She Passed Away, Her Lawyer Handed Me A Box She Had Left Behind

The Day Everything Changed

And then it happened. It was an ordinary morning, just like any other. I was lost in my thoughts, thinking about the bills piling up and how I might need to get another job or maybe—just maybe—ask Evelyn if I could borrow a little from her. The daydream was interrupted by the sound of a loud crash. I turned, and there she was, crumpled on the floor, the chair she’d been sitting on tipped over beside her.

“Evelyn!” I shouted, rushing to her side, dropping to my knees. My pulse raced, panic rising in my throat. I’d never heard her make a sound like that — it was like something out of a nightmare. I pressed my fingers on her wrist, feeling for a pulse, but my mind was racing too fast for my hands to find stillness. I begged her to wake up, to come back.

Three days later, she was gone.

The Funeral

The funeral was a blur of black suits and muffled whispers. I stood awkwardly at the front, surrounded by her relatives who shot me glances filled with contempt. I could almost hear their thoughts as they muttered behind cupped hands.

“Gold digger.”

“He got exactly what he wanted.”

They were right, though, weren’t they? I had married her for her stability. I didn’t love her. I had thought I wanted her house, her money. As I stood there, the reality of it crashed over me like cold water. Guilt pricked at my chest; I felt like a parasite.

But deep down, I consoled myself. I’d always put on a mask, pretending I was fine, pretending I cared more than I did, and now it was too late. I was left alone in this world, the weight of her family’s disdain pulling me deeper into the ground.

The Will