When Michael and I found each other again after years apart, it felt like the universe was giving us a second chance. Our wedding was small and perfect, and I was thrilled to move into his family’s historic home. Then his mother gave me her journal.
The entries started innocently enough – recipes, family stories. Then came the warnings about the “curse” that brought misfortune to women who married into their line. Michael tried to reassure me it was just old family lore, but the fear in his eyes told another story.
Within weeks, my life began unraveling. My business was sabotaged. Our home was vandalized. I caught Michael’s mother smiling when she thought I wasn’t looking. The breaking point came when I overheard her telling someone, “She won’t last much longer.”
That night, Michael held me as I shook with realization. There was no curse – only a mother who couldn’t bear to share her son. We left everything behind that very night. Now, in our new home by the sea, we’re writing our own story – one free from the ghosts of the past.
