My mom never liked my wife. When I told her I was getting married, she had tears in her eyes. Not the happy tears you expect, but the kind of tears filled with concern. “Son, she’s not the one for you,” she had warned me, voice quivering with an emotion I couldn’t quite place. But I told her, “One day, you’ll love her too. I’m sure of it.” My mom just nodded quietly,
though I could tell she wasn’t convinced. A few years passed, and despite her reservations, she started warming up to my wife. Or so I thought. Then one day, after my mom passed away, I went to her house to clean out her belongings. While going through her things, I stopped in my tracks when I saw a stack of papers under her bed. They were all neatly organized, with legal documents and financial records. But when I looked closer,