I thought inheriting my grandma’s house would bring me peace. Instead, it brought family tension I never expected — and it started with my cousin. I’m Elena, 27, a freelance illustrator who found comfort in quiet mornings and my dog’s company. My mom passed when I was six, and Gran raised me with patience, love, and cinnamon rolls. Her little cottage became our world, filled with laughter, warmth, and memories that stayed long after she was gone.
When Gran passed, she left me the house, and I promised to take care of it. One day, my cousin Lydia called, asking to pick up some old “documents.” I was leaving for a work trip, so I left the key under the mat. When I returned, the house was in terrible condition — messy, stained, and carelessly treated. My heart broke, not for the things, but for the disrespect toward Gran’s memory.
