09/27/2025
Before Dad passed, it was just the three of us at home — him, me, and my sister (36). She was rarely around, always out chasing something, always distant.
When Dad died a few weeks ago, my world shattered. We were incredibly close. My sister? Not so much. She always kept herself apart, like she didn't even belong to us.
Then came the will reading.
Sitting in the lawyer's office, I found out my sister was left the entire house. Everything. My share? Just Dad's old pocketknife. The same one he used to carry everywhere. When I held it in my hand, I almost broke down. It felt like a piece of him was still with me.
For a short while, we stayed under the same roof. I thought maybe we could figure it out. But one night, I came home and found my bags by the door. My sister stood there cold as stone and said, "You need to go. This is my house now."
Heartbroken, I called our lawyer and told him what happened. He chuckled softly and said, "Your father really did know what was coming. Come by tomorrow. There's something he left only for you."
