Losing my mother broke me. But what shattered me even more was her will—leaving everything to my sister, Sybella, while I got nothing. I had been her caretaker, her comfort in those final years. Was I not enough?
Then, her doctor handed me an envelope. Inside was a deed to a mountain cabin I never knew existed. My mother’s note read: “This was my escape, my joy. Now it’s yours.” Tears blurred my vision. Why had she hidden this?
I drove straight to the cabin, needing to feel close to her. It was nestled deep in the woods, quiet and untouched. Inside, I found traces of her—photos, journals, memories she’d kept secret. One journal entry mentioned a son she’d given up. My pulse pounded. Did I have a brother?
After days of searching records, I found him—Jasper, a mechanic in a nearby town. When we met, the resemblance was undeniable. He knew about me, too. “I always wondered about my family,” he said, voice thick with emotion.
Sybella arrived soon after, furious about the cabin. But when I introduced Jasper, her anger turned to shock. For once, she had no cruel words. That night, the three of us sat by the fire, sharing stories, regrets, and tentative hope.
The cabin became our meeting place, our common ground. We repaired it together, uncovering more of my mother’s secrets—hidden coins, letters, proof that she’d loved us all in her own way.
In the end, the cabin wasn’t just a building. It was the bridge that brought us back together.
