The cold wind hit my face when I closed the door behind me. < img src = "https://zycie.news/crrops/01f21d/620x0/1/0/2025/01/24/zsruxdag2jcxncmivk5vak7hud8dnbmkfwlmq2up.jpg" alt = "funeral @pexels" styles = "background-color: rgba (109,101,88.0.53)" > < p > the same door, which & oacute; re recently led to my house.

< p > to the place where I spent twenty years of my life.

< p > but now ?

< p > Now I didn't have the right to even cross the threshold.

< p > when my husband lived, his family tolerated me.

< P >& Amp; MDASH; She is not for you, Paweł & Amp; MDASH; M & oacute; his mother wiped when we met.

< p > — Does not match our family — His sister repeated.

< p > they didn't like anything. Neither how I cook or how I run a house.

< p > but Paweł always stood on my side.

< p > until the day it ran out.

< p > Death came suddenly. One day changed everything. I became a widow and they felt the owners of my life.

< p > even a month has not passed when I heard:

< p > — It was Paweł's house, it should belong to the family.

< p > — What family ?! & Amp; MDASH; I asked, staring at his mother.

< p > — To his mother, his sister & Hellip; to us.

< p > — But I live here! It's m & oacute; j house!

< p > Paweł's mother smiled cold.

< p > — It was TW & Amp; Oacute; J house.

< p > I had nothing. All documents were saved to him. We did not have the co -inferior property, because I always trusted that he would never leave me.

< p > now he left me without anything.

< p > first it started with small things.

< p > — Maybe you should look for something smaller ?

< p > then it was worse.

< p > — You should move out, it's our house.

< p > until it finally came to the brutal truth.

< p > — If you do not leave alone, we will throw you away.

< p > and so I stood on the street. With a suitcase in hand, no plan, without a future. Without anything.

< p > Did I really deserve it ? or twenty years of life did nothing mean ?

< p > I looked at the closed door. I won't knock. I will not beg.

< p > because if I have never been a family in this house, then maybe & hellip; He was never my home.

Natasha Kumar

By Natasha Kumar

Natasha Kumar has been a reporter on the news desk since 2018. Before that she wrote about young adolescence and family dynamics for Styles and was the legal affairs correspondent for the Metro desk. Before joining The Times Hub, Natasha Kumar worked as a staff writer at the Village Voice and a freelancer for Newsday, The Wall Street Journal, GQ and Mirabella. To get in touch, contact me through my natasha@thetimeshub.in 1-800-268-7116