Natalie perched on the edge of the sofa where Michael had been just a moment before. Now only a black mourning handkerchief lay there, having slipped out of her grasp. Michael had died suddenly at work, a heart attack stealing him before the ambulance could even ring the doorbell.
They had no children, their dream of parenthood forever unfulfilled. Natalie was left alone in a threebed flat. A second flat, their joint investment for a peaceful retirement, had been let to a pair of young doctors for a few years before the doctors bought their own place, leaving the flat empty.
A knock sounded at the door. Her mother, Margaret, had arrived. Her face was strained, and in Natalies eyes she saw not only the grief of losing a soninlaw but a nervous flicker of something else. They embraced wordlessly.
Margaret sighed, surveyed the spacious living room with its expensive furniture and park view, and sat down beside her daughter, taking Natalies hand.
Love, how are you holding up? she began. Michael was a good man. May he rest in peace.
Natalie nodded, clutching the handkerchief. The tears had already been shed; only a hollow remained.
Youre on your own now, Margaret continued, patting Natalies back. No kitten, no child its hard. But remember, youve got us.
She hesitated, choosing her words.
You own two flats now. Youre the sole heir. Do you really need both? One is yours, where you live. The other maybe give it to Amy? She has two little ones, cramped in her motherinlaws house, and she cant afford her own place. We cant live there ourselves; its just a single room.
Besides, Margaret added, you have a decent salary, and Michael left a decent nest egg. You travelled abroad together. The car will transfer to you, and its worth a fair sum.
Natalie recoiled. A ringing filled her ears. Give? Not help buy, but give the flat they had chosen together, renovated, poured their savings into.
This is our flat, Michaels and yours, she whispered.
It used to be our, Margaret snapped, her tone sharpening. Michaels gone! And Amys suffering! Youre the older sister, always welloff, always able to help. Yet you never did. Shes the younger, weaker, unlucky with her husband
A familiar tune from her childhood rose in Natalies mind: her parents praise for her fivestar grades, well done, but dont get cocky, and Amys threestar ones, poor thing, you tried! The first paycheck she earned came with, Give some to your sister as a gift, while Amys first salary was met with, Spend it yourself, youve earned it. Love from their parents was always aimed at the fragile, perpetually unlucky Amy.
Even the prom dress: Natalie got a cheap, simple one; Amy a custommade gown because she was a princess. It was always like that.
Michael had been her shield from that bias, her excuse to be happy off script.
Mom, Natalie rose, feeling a lump rise in her throatnot from sorrow but from rage. Amy and her husband are adults. Theyre thirty! Let them learn to earn, save, take a mortgage like everyone else. Im not obliged to hand them a flat bought with Michaels money! Its unfair.
Margaret leapt up, her face flushing, eyes narrowing.
Unfair? Youre the selfish one! A miser! A heartless, cruel egotist! You have everything, while your sister and nieces are scraping by! And you dare turn them down after everything we did for you? Thats it?
She snatched her coat, flung it over her shoulders, and jabbed a bag at the door.
Remember, youll never see happiness with those flats! Youll end up with one, and well no longer know you! Neither I nor Amy! Youre not our daughter or sister! Live however you like!
The door slammed so hard the crystal chandelier rattled. Natalie stood in the middle of the living room, tremblingnot from fear, but from the sheer, deafening injustice.
Her own mother, instead of comforting her, had come to demand a piece of Natalies past with Michael. All for Amy. Always for Amy
***
The city park became her refuge. Autumn draped the trees in crimson and gold, the air crisp and clean. Natalie wandered the paths, trying not to think about Michael, Margaret, Amy, the flat. The circle closed; she felt like a burntout desert. It was lonely.
On a bench by the pond sat an elderly lady in a neat grey beret and a tidy, though threadbare, coat. She stared at the ducks with a vacant look. Something about the ladys slumped, vulnerable posture struck a chord in Natalie. She sat on the opposite end of the bench. The woman flinched, as if waking from a dream.
Its cold today, Natalie said softly, just to break the heavy silence.
The woman turned, her pale, gaunt face lit by surprisingly bright, mournful eyes.
Yes, its cold, she replied, voice thin and hoarse. And my hearts frozen too. Im completely chilled
A pause. Natalie didnt know what to say. The woman sighed.
Sorry, dear, I couldnt help myself, she whispered. Its hard. My son, Sam he died a year ago from a heart attack. He was still young. I transferred my flat to him so he wouldnt have to sort out an estate after Im gone. Turns out, just before he died, he gave that flat to his wife without telling me. Now she lives there, and Im like a stone in her throat. I hide food so she doesnt eat it all. Every day Im reminded Im living on her neck. My pension is a pittance. Im an old burden nobody needs My husband left me. Im scared to speak. Theres nowhere to go. I made a terrible mistake signing that deed to Sam. Who would have known hed die?
She let a silent tear roll down her wrinkled cheek, not wiping it. Natalie felt a pang in her chest, as if the strangers pain were her own.
Whats your name? Natalie asked.
Tammy Whitmore, love, the lady replied.
Im Natalie, she said, eyes on Tammys trembling hands. The words slipped out before she could think.
Tammy I have a flat. Its empty now. The tenants moved out. Its quiet, bright, cosy. You could stay there, free of charge, Tammy said, eyes wide with a mix of astonishment and fear.
Dear, I dont know you Natalie began, but Tammy cut her off.
You can, Natalie said firmly. For the first time in ages, something other than anger stirred in her chestperhaps pity, perhaps a desire to do something right in this upsidedown world.
I live alone in the next house. The flats empty, and it would ease my mind to have a good person there. Come in, warm up, have some tea, Tammy offered, extending a hand. Tammys hand was cold as ice, but Natalie took it.
***
Tammys empty flat came alive with modest belongings: an old suitcase, embroidered tea towels on the nightstand, a few books, a small crucifix in the corner. New aromas filled the roomsherbal infusions, homemade scones Tammy baked to thank Natalie.
Amys wife was relieved when she heard Tammy was moving out and even helped haul the furniture.
Natalie visited Tammy often, talking about Sam, about Michael, about the ache that never truly leaves but can be learned to live with. Natalie brought groceries and medicine. Tammy grumbled that Natalie worked too much and didnt eat enough, and would set a pot of hearty stew on the table like the way I used to make for Sam.
They didnt become mother and daughter straight away. They became neighbours united by misfortune, a safe harbour for each other, then friends. Tammys quiet wisdom, her listening ear, and her simple, sincere care became the warm island Natalie had desperately needed.
She healed not with words but with presence: a steaming cup of tea served at the right moment, a silent look of empathy when Natalie returned from a draining shift. Tammy never pried about Natalies family, yet her eyes said, I get it, love, I know how it feels.
Two years passed. Contrary to Margarets bleak prophecy, life moved on. Natalie met Andrew. It wasnt the fireworks shed had with Michael, but it was steady, deep, and comforting. He knew her story and was familiar with Tammy.
They married and decided to keep Natalies flat while Andrew rented out his. He had no parents, his previous marriage had ended, but he was caring and loving, and Natalies heart thawed. Life didnt stand still; happiness was still possible.
When Natalie, voice trembling, told Andrew about the two pink lines on her pregnancy test, the first person she asked to call was Tammy.
Gran Tam, Andrew said, hugging Natalie, she should be the first to know.
The birth was tough. When Natalie emerged from the hospital, exhausted but radiant, cradling a tiny bundle, Andrew and Tammy were there. Tammys eyes shone like a childs.
Goodness me what a beautiful one! she whispered, gazing at the baby. Hello, little sunshine
They named him Ethan. And Ethan gained a Gran Tam, truly his own, who rocked him when colic struck, sang old lullabies she once sang to Sam, and looked at him with pure, unguarded adoration.
She knit him tiny booties, read him stories, sat by his crib while Natalie and Andrew rested. Tammys flat became a second home for little Ethan, and she herself became an integral part of their small, sturdy family.
***
Word of the grandsons arrival drifted to Margaret through mutual acquaintances. One day the phone rang. Natalie, rocking Ethan, answered.
Natalie? Its Mum, came the voice.
Hello, Mum, Natalie replied.
Congratulations, Margaret said, the words sounding like a duty. A boy, they say? And you gave your second flat to some stranger old lady? Is that true?
Natalie pressed the sleeping child to her chest, feeling that familiar chill of injustice crawl up her spine. But now she wasnt alone.
Yes, its true. Tammy lives there. She isnt a stranger; shes my sons grandmother.
A harsh, mocking laugh crackled on the other end.
Grandmother? Have you lost your mind? You gave a flat to a random old woman and turned your own sister and nieces away! And now this beggar becomes a grandma to your son? Youre a heartless slime! Your soul is black! A stranger is closer to you than your own mother and sister?!
Natalie stared at Ethans innocent face, feeling his warm body against hers. She remembered Tammys hands cradling him. Her tears of joy from the delivery swelled.
Yes, Mum. That stranger is now nearer to me than you ever were. Because she gave me what you never couldunconditional love, care without strings, no demands, no placing me second. She chose me, heart and soul. Youre just blood.
Silence answered. Margaret hung up. Natalie walked to the window. On the opposite bench, Tammy sat basking in the sun, a bag of fresh rolls in her lap. She waved happily and held out the parcel. Natalie waved back, pressing Ethans soft cheek to her own.
Warmth filled her chest. Calm settled over her.
They live now in two homes. In Natalies flat, Andrew and Ethans laughter fills rooms once echoing with silence. In Tammys flat, Gran Tams heart, once thought withered, blossoms again.
The flat that once sparked a family feud over blood now serves as a homefor a onceodd old lady who became the most beloved person in Natalies life.
And Margaret and Amy? Somewhere, in a parallel version of things, Amy still lives with her motherinlaw, complaining about money and her husband. Margaret is ill. But Natalie doesnt call. Not out of spite, but because even a single drop of poison can spoil a whole bucket of spring water. She chose a family built on mutual respect, gratitude, and simple, quiet love that doesnt need a shared surname.
Family isnt about names on a birth certificate. Its about a hand offered at the right moment, a patient ear, tears of joy for your happiness, and being there not when someone needs something, but when they simply need you.
Sometimes a strangers hand reaches out, and that hand becomes closer, dearer, and more valuable than anyone who wears the label family yet brings only coldness, hurt, and endless guilt for not being who theyre supposed to be. Love warms the soul, no matter the bloodline.
