When Nancy’s landlord demanded she and her three daughters vacate their rental home for a week, she thought life couldn’t get worse. But a surprise meeting with the landlord’s brother revealed a shocking betrayal.
Our house isn’t much, but it’s ours. The floors creak with every step, and the paint in the kitchen is peeling so badly I’ve started calling it “abstract art.”
Still, it’s home. My daughters, Lily, Emma, and Sophie, make it feel that way, with their laughter and the little things they do that remind me why I push so hard.
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