I spent days cleaning, repairing, and trying to restore what she had left behind. Each wall I repainted, each floor I scrubbed, felt like reclaiming a piece of peace. When I realized the damage was too much to fix alone, I hired help and kept every receipt. I didn’t confront Lydia with anger; instead, I spoke with a lawyer. It was time to seek fairness, not revenge.

Weeks later, the court ruled in my favor — Lydia had to cover all the repair costs. I sent her the papers tied with a pink ribbon, a quiet reminder that respect always matters. That night, I sat in Gran’s room, whispering, “It’s all okay now.” The house finally felt peaceful again. Gran once told me, “You’re stronger than you think.” Now, I finally believe she was right.