When Jason’s estranged parents arrived on my doorstep, demanding the house he had left behind, I found myself thrust into a battle I never anticipated. Grieving and exhausted, I agreed to hear their claim — but only if they could answer the one question that had haunted Jason until his last day.
Some moments in life change everything. For Jason and me, that moment came when we were 17. I’ll never forget the day he showed up at my door, red-eyed from crying, with only a backpack and a broken heart.
His parents had thrown him out without explanation or remorse. My mom didn’t hesitate. She saw the pain in his eyes, and from that moment, he became a part of our family.
Through the awkward years of high school and the stresses of college, we leaned on each other. I chose a career in HR, fascinated by people and their complexities. Jason, on the other hand, was a tech genius, always able to fix the things I couldn’t.
We were a perfect balance, a team. Then, four years ago, life delivered its cruelest blow.
Jason was diagnosed with bone cancer. It felt as if the universe had decided we’d had enough happiness and now needed to pay the price.
Even then, we fought through it. I picked up extra shifts, handled the mortgage on the house Jason had bought, and kept things going.
Jason, in his quiet and stubborn way, held onto hope that his parents would come around. But they never did.
Jason’s funeral had only been a month ago. I was still drowning in grief when his family showed up, knocking on my door. The same people who had abandoned him when he needed them most were now standing in front of me, acting as if they had every right to be here.
