After my mom passed away, I found comfort in keeping her collection of elegant, expensive shoes. Each pair carried memories of her — family celebrations, special occasions, and even quiet evenings when she would tell me stories about her life.
One day, my stepmother saw the collection and declared, “I’ll own them now.”I immediately refused. “No, these were Mom’s. They mean a lot to me.”
But my words didn’t matter. A few days later, I discovered the shoes were gone. My heart sank, but I stayed quiet, hoping to handle things peacefully.Last week, my stepmother hosted a big family gathering. She arrived looking radiant and proud, wearing a striking pair of my mom’s shoes. She flaunted them all evening, showing them off to everyone like they were her prize possession.What she didn’t know was that my mom had a habit of hiding small,
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