After the funeral, he kept repeating:
— We need to sell your grandmother’s house in the village as soon as possible. Why do you need it? It’s just a burden.

At first, I resisted: in that house I had spent the best years of my childhood, my soul lived there. But under his pressure, I finally agreed.

A few weeks later, I went to the village to gather the last of the things. When I approached the gate, my grandmother’s elderly neighbor stopped me.

— My condolences for your loss, my dear, — she said quietly.
— Thank you, grandma, — I replied.
— But… do you know what your husband did here while your grandmother was still alive?