After her husband’s death, a 20-year-old woman and her 3-month-old son ended up on the street…

He said he would take extra work so you could rent a bigger apartment. And you could have lived with us just fine. But you were never satisfied.

At that moment, something inside Mindy broke. She stood up and, still holding the crying Alex close, looked Dolores straight in the eyes. Yes, John really wanted to rent a bigger apartment.

But not because I asked for it, but because he himself didn’t want to live with you anymore. He was tired of your constant nagging, of you interfering in our lives, of your comments on how I raised the child. He wanted us to have our own life.

Dolores’s face twisted. She rose from the chair, approached Mindy, and hissed right in her face. You’re lying.

My son would never say that. You turned him against us. You ruined him with your demands.

They stood face to face when the sound of the front door opening was heard. Gregory had returned, looking even older and more drawn. He silently went into the living room and sat in an armchair, staring at a single point.

Is it true? Dolores asked quietly. Is it him? Her father-in-law nodded silently and covered his face with his hands. My God, why? Dolores moaned, dropping to her knees beside her husband.

They embraced and cried. Mindy left the room, feeling like an outsider in their grief. She understood that for Dolores and Gregory, the loss of their only son was a tragedy incomparable to anything else.

But John had meant everything to her, too. She loved him. They had made plans, dreamed about the future.

The funeral felt like a blur. Mindy stood by the grave, holding Alex in her arms, unable to believe that on this sunny spring day, they were burying her husband. Not a single tear rolled down her cheek.

She seemed to have cried them all away over the previous days. Dolores held up surprisingly well. She accepted condolences from John’s colleagues, friends, and distant relatives.

Only occasionally she threw strange looks at Mindy, filled with some kind of resolve. After the funeral, everyone returned to John’s parents’ apartment, where a memorial lunch was organized. Mindy, exhausted and empty, put Alex to sleep in her room and went out to join the guests.

She ate almost nothing, mechanically thanked everyone for their condolences, and tried to keep to herself. When the last guests left, Dolores approached her. I want to talk to you.

Alone. They went to the kitchen. Outside, the rain had started again, raindrops tapping against the window, creating a gloomy melody.

I want you to leave, the mother-in-law said without preamble. Today. Mindy thought she must have misheard.

Excuse me? You heard me perfectly. I want you to pack your things and leave our home. Today.

But where will I go? Mindy asked, confused. I have a three-month-old baby. I don’t have a job.

My parents live in another city. That’s not my problem. Dolores cut her off.

You ruined my son with your demands. And I don’t want to see you in my house for one minute longer. Dolores, you know that’s not true.

John died in a car accident. It’s not my fault at all. If it weren’t for you, he wouldn’t have gone on that damn business trip, her mother-in-law shouted.

If you hadn’t existed, there wouldn’t be a baby. John would be alive. Leave.

And take this. She trailed off, but Mindy understood what she meant. This baby, she asked quietly.

Your grandson? He’s not my grandson, Dolores hissed. I’m not even sure he’s John’s. You had half the dorm passing through that place.

Mindy felt nausea rise in her throat. You have no right to say that, she whispered. I do.

Today I buried my only son. And now I have the right to say whatever I want. Pack your things and go.

At that moment, Gregory appeared in the kitchen doorway. What’s going on here? He asked wearily. I told her to leave, Dolores replied…