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Part 2
The next morning, I woke to the smell of bacon and loud voices.
My home used to be quiet in the mornings. Coffee, curtains, basil on the balcony, a crossword puzzle. After David died, that routine had held me together.
Now Lorraine was walking through the hall with my towels.
“I washed these,” she said. “They smelled a little stale.”
“They were clean,” I replied.
She smiled. “I just like things fresh.”
In the kitchen, Jenna was rearranging my spices.
“I’ll remember where everything goes,” she said.
“I already knew where everything went.”
Her smile tightened.
Over the next few days, my condo became less and less mine.
Lorraine replaced my towels. Carl took business calls at my dining table. Tyler left dishes under my coffee table. Mia filled the bathroom with hair products. Jenna talked about changing my curtains, replacing my rug, moving the hutch David had refinished by hand.
I kept waiting for Alex to stop them.
He never did.
On the sixth day, I heard furniture scraping across the living room floor. When I came out, Lorraine had a tape measure stretched across my wall. Jenna was taking photos. Carl was moving my side table. Tyler had taken down a framed graduation picture of Alex, David, and me.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Just seeing what we can do with the space,” Lorraine said.
Jenna smiled. “After the wedding, a big wedding photo would look better there.”
I picked up the old photo. It was the last formal picture of the three of us before David died.
Jenna looked at it and said, “We can make new memories, Maggie.”
I turned to her. “My old memories are not in your way.”
That night, they held a “small family gathering” in my condo without asking me. Strangers filled my living room, opened my balcony door, used my speaker, and called me by my first name as if we were close.
Then I heard Lorraine tell someone they would all be staying here after the wedding.
“Maggie has the space,” she said. “And Alex wants everyone close.”
Not Maggie agreed.
Not Maggie offered.
Alex wants.
I stepped onto the balcony, closed the door, and realized something very clearly.
If I allowed this to continue, I would disappear inside my own home.
The next morning, I found a binder on my coffee table.
On the cover was Jenna’s handwriting: After Wedding Plan.
Inside were calendars, room assignments, moving plans, utility notes—and one line that stopped my breath.
Discuss deed timeline with Alex.
My name appeared on another page beside the small bedroom.
Then I saw a note:
Alex has key. Maggie won’t fight if Alex presents it as family need.
I closed the binder.
I did not scream. I did not confront them immediately.
I made coffee.
Then I opened the blue folder David had always told me to keep organized: deed, insurance papers, HOA documents, payment records, locksmith receipts, and wedding deposits I had quietly helped pay.
My name.
My signature.
My home.
For the first time all week, my heartbeat slowed.
Part 3
see continuation on next page
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