“My wife and daughter abandoned me during my illness. Years later, they returned to claim my house. But, let me start with the beginning. Firstly, I was diagnosed with late-stage Hodgkin’s lymphoma, which came as a shock. I had always been active, ate well, and diligently kept up with my yearly checkups at the doctor’s office. The oncologist informed me that the exact causes of cancer were still uncertain, but there was a small chance of survival with rigorous chemotherapy. I was determined to fight for my life.
After receiving my diagnosis, I sat down with my wife of 15 years, Janet, and our teenage daughter, Layla, to break the news to them. They were devastated, understandably, but I reassured them that I would do my utmost to combat the disease. However, I couldn’t help but worry about how this would affect our family dynamics. The doctor had warned me that the chemotherapy would be debilitating, and he mentioned that many marriages don’t survive such treatments.
Later that night, I expressed my concerns to my wife. She assured me that she would stand by me through sickness and do everything in her power to support me. We were financially stable, thanks to my good insurance, sizable savings, and a trust fund from my late grandfather. Our house was fully paid off, and I had set aside money for Layla’s college education in case anything happened to me.
A week later, I started chemotherapy, and it was incredibly taxing. I returned home feeling utterly drained, as if I had been hit by a freight train. I could barely manage to feed myself, let alone perform basic tasks like bathing or walking. My wife and daughter stepped up to help me, taking care of meals, housework, driving me to chemo appointments, and ensuring my prescriptions were filled. I tried not to burden them too much and did what I could when I had the energy. This went on for two grueling months.
However, I began to notice signs of agitation from my wife and daughter. There was a growing reluctance whenever I asked for their assistance. Even my daughter stopped responding when I requested something as simple as a glass of water or help getting some fresh air. Things reached a breaking point when I had an early chemo appointment one day. I realized I was running late, and my wife had not yet come down from our room. I called up to check on her, and she wearily suggested I take an Uber to the hospital because she was tired. I was shocked by her response, but not knowing what else to do, I called for an Uber and also contacted the hospital to request assistance, as my wife wouldn’t be there to support me.
Fortunately, my Uber driver was incredibly kind and ensured I safely reached the hospital. She even offered to drive me back home after my treatment. I was grateful, but it was disheartening to rely on the kindness of strangers. When I returned home that day, the situation had taken a troubling turn. After a few hours of rest, I mustered the courage to confront my wife and daughter about their recent behavior. I had noticed a distinct chill in their demeanor lately, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.
I asked them if they felt like I had become a burden on them. My wife, with a heavy sigh, admitted that they were feeling overwhelmed. My daughter, timidly, said she hadn’t expected me to be so needy and demanding during my illness. I decided it was time to discuss possible solutions. I suggested the idea of hiring a nurse who could come in a few days a week to assist me with daily tasks and take me to my chemotherapy sessions to make things easier. I ordered a wheelchair, anticipating that there would be days when I’d be too weak to walk or even talk.
To my relief, they agreed to this proposal. I contacted the hospital for recommendations, and they sent me a nurse who was both sweet and stern. She made sure I never missed a chemo appointment, ensured I received my medication on time, and even crafted a comprehensive care plan that included healthy meals. Everything seemed to be improving as the doctors were pleased with my progress. However, despite my efforts to ease their burden, my wife and daughter still didn’t seem content. My wife, in particular, began feeling as though the nurse was replacing her.
I suggested that if she was willing to take on the responsibilities of taking me to chemo, filling prescriptions, and ensuring I ate and took my medication on time, we could part ways with the nurse. The only reason I had a nurse was that I had become too much for my wife to handle, and she reluctantly agreed to this compromise. She asked if we could find a male nurse instead, but I explained that there were none on the hospital’s recommended list. The nurse we had was chosen for her experience with cancer patients and her understanding of my specific needs. She was meticulous, attentive, and highly respectful towards both my wife and daughter. I made it clear that the only way the nurse would be replaced was if my wife and daughter were willing to shoulder her responsibilities.
My wife was not pleased with this proposal and retorted that I should do more for myself instead of making my condition everyone else’s problem. I tried to reason with her, explaining that there were days when I could barely lift my head, let alone stand up. The chemotherapy had taken a severe toll on my body. In a fit of rage, she stormed upstairs and began slamming doors. I chose to ignore her tantrum, realizing that her negativity would only hinder my recovery. My main focus remained on my health and well-being.
Later that night, I received a call from my mother-in-law, who lived two states away. She expressed her displeasure about me bringing another woman into her daughter’s house. Technically, the house was in my name as I had owned it before our marriage. But I decided to take the high road. I politely explained that I needed help, and the level of assistance I required exceeded what her daughter was willing to provide. Thus, I had to bring in a nurse to ease the burden on my family. I emphasized that the nurse’s presence would only be temporary, lasting for the duration of my remaining month of chemotherapy, provided the cancer didn’t persist or worsen.
She didn’t seem entirely convinced but eventually left me alone, which was all I wanted. For about a week after that conversation, things seemed relatively normal. My treatment continued to progress smoothly. Then, on one fateful day after returning from a chemotherapy session, I was greeted by a moving truck parked in front of my house. My wife and daughter had packed up all their belongings and informed me that they were going to stay at their mother’s place.
I was deeply hurt and upset, but exhaustion held me back from expressing my feelings properly. The timing of my wife’s departure right after my chemo sessions, when she knew I’d be utterly spent and unable to communicate effectively, felt cruel. In search of some clarity, I turned to my daughter and asked if this was what she truly wanted. After all, she was old enough to make her own decisions.
Her response hit me hard. She said she would rather live with her mother because she found it too difficult to live with me. It was a painful moment, watching them leave with tears welling up in my eyes. It was precisely what I had feared when my chemo journey began, feeling unwanted and abandoned.
In the midst of my emotional turmoil, my brother stepped in with a solution. He noticed the nurse spending some extra time with me that day and inquired if I had any family members nearby who could provide support. My brother lived three hours away and had two young children of his own, but he generously offered to take time off from work to stay with me until I could find a more permanent arrangement.
When he arrived, he was furious about what my wife had done, referring to her as selfish and ungrateful. He pointed out that she had never had to work since our marriage, and I had always ensured she lacked nothing. My brother’s time off from work was limited to a week, but he had another suggestion in mind. His wife’s sister, Cara, was going through a painful divorce and needed a safe place to stay temporarily. Her soon-to-be ex-husband had been the breadwinner, leaving her with limited financial resources. Cara was also studying radiology at a nearby university on a scholarship. My home was conveniently closer to the university campus, making it an ideal solution.
I would have someone in the house in case of emergencies, and she would have a haven away from her tumultuous soon-to-be ex-husband. I agreed to the arrangement, assuring my brother that Cara wouldn’t have to pay rent since she’d already be putting up with me. She could choose whichever bedroom she preferred. I didn’t mind. My wife and daughter had taken almost everything, leaving only the bed and a few dresses.
My brother stayed the rest of the week, and Cara arrived on his last day. He helped her move in, and she expressed her gratitude for letting her stay with me. Cara promised to be considerate, clean up after herself, and assist where needed. She was a genuinely kind-hearted person. I explained to her that she wouldn’t have to do too much since my nurse would now be coming in seven days a week instead of the previous four. I bid farewell to my brother and helped Cara settle in as best as I could.
In the weeks that followed, things went relatively smoothly. I missed my wife and daughter, but it appeared that I was the only one feeling that way because they didn’t even bother to call or check up on me. Cara’s presence proved to be a tremendous help. She took care of grocery shopping, handled most of the cleaning, and even assisted with meal preparation. Throughout this time, she never uttered a single complaint.
About a month and a half after my wife’s departure, I received the news that I was cancer-free, a momentous occasion celebrated by ringing the bell at the hospital. My nurse asked me what I wanted to do next, now that I was essentially cured. My immediate decision was to file for a unilateral divorce, freeing myself from a marriage that had proven to be unsupportive during my challenging journey.
With the divorce proceedings in motion, my focus shifted toward the next crucial step: recovering from cancer. It was a journey in itself. Slowly but surely, I began to regain my strength. My hair grew back, my scars started to heal, and I was putting on weight. I stuck to my healthy meal regime for the most part, but I allowed myself some cheat days to savor the favorite meals I had missed during my illness.
It’s been six months now since I’ve been declared cancer-free, and I believe I’m finally ready to move on with my life. I made a call to my old job, and they’re willing to re-hire me for remote work if I choose to return. I think I’ll take them up on the offer because I’m planning to move away. While I have an attachment to my house, there are too many painful memories here. I yearn for a fresh start with something smaller.
My wife doesn’t know it yet, but I’m planning to give the house to Cara. She came through for me when I was at my lowest, showing immense kindness even though we were practically strangers. Free to sell it if she wishes, I no longer want anything to do with it, especially if it means my wife or daughter could lay claim to it. My new place is in a quiet neighborhood in the countryside, and I’m eagerly looking forward to this new beginning.
Update number one: Hey wife and daughter, it’s been over a year since my initial diagnosis, and I’ve settled into my new place and neighborhood nicely. There are plenty of friendly folks around here, and I’ve made friends with my neighbors, including Dorothy, who lives across the way. She’s a widow who lives alone, with her kids scattered across the country, visiting only during Christmas and her birthday.
Dorothy invited me to her porch for drinks and conversation, and she shared the heartbreaking story of losing her husband to lung cancer. She emphasized how important life insurance was for her family’s financial security. During our conversation, I opened up about what happened with my wife and daughter. Surprisingly, I still hadn’t heard a word from them, but I’ve come to terms with it.
I’ve been spending my time pursuing new hobbies, particularly woodworking, and I’m starting to build up a collection of tools. One day, when I returned from the hardware store, Dorothy informed me that she had noticed some people hanging around my house. Fortunately, they didn’t do anything harmful or steal anything, but they did approach the door, knock it a few times, wander around the house, and eventually waited in their car.
Dorothy considered calling the sheriff’s office but decided against it, as she thought they might be family. I asked her to describe them, and her description matched my wife and daughter. I couldn’t fathom how they had found my new residence, as only my brother and his wife knew my current address. It left me wondering why they were looking for me.
After leaving almost a year ago without looking back, Dorothy assured me that if they returned, I shouldn’t come out, and she would handle the situation. Frankly, I had no desire to interact with them after they abandoned me when I was at my lowest point. Later that night, I called my brother, who informed me that my wife and daughter had been harassing Cara and her roommate at my old house. Fortunately, Cara had documented proof that the house was now in her name, and she had explained that she had bought it for me, a smart move on her part.
I felt bad that Cara had to go through this ordeal because of my family, so I called her directly to apologize. Hopefully, the next time they come around, I can resolve the situation for good. As for my wife, I’m not sure if she’s aware of the unilateral divorce my lawyer sent a copy to her mother’s house, but it’s possible they mistook it for junk mail. Regardless, I’ve reached a point where I no longer care. She and I are no more.
Update number two: My wife and daughter showed up at the house again, but this time it was earlier in the day while I was working. I heard the knock and decided to check the security cameras, and sure enough, it was them. My ex-wife looked just as I remembered her, but Layla had grown significantly; she was practically a young woman now.
I followed the plan Dorothy and I had discussed, staying inside but moving closer to the door to hear them better. Dorothy, ever the good neighbor, came over to greet them and introduced herself. My wife asked if she knew a man named Richard who used to live
there. Dorothy sounded just as baffled as I was and questioned her use of “used to.” My wife explained that her husband, not ex-husband, had lived in this house before his recent untimely death following an extended hospital stay.
My jaw hit the floor at this revelation because, to my knowledge, there was no record of my death anywhere, especially not at the hospital where I underwent treatment. My wife went on to claim that they were the next of kin, implying that the home was rightfully theirs. Dorothy informed them that someone named Richard did live there for a while but clarified that he was a divorcee. She also shared that during our time as neighbors, I had informed her that my wife had left me, and I had filed for a unilateral divorce. Dorothy added that, as far as she knew, I intended to bequeath all my assets to charity, since I had no other family besides my brother. This was why she found it strange to see two women snooping around my house.
The conversation fell into an uncomfortable silence before Dorothy inquired if they had a death certificate or a will. They replied in the negative. Dorothy explained that once they had those documents, they could take them to the county’s record office. If they were indeed the rightful owners of the property, they could then get the deed in their name. My wife did not take kindly to this suggestion. She asked Dorothy who she thought she was and started screaming, asserting that Dorothy had no authority to interfere in her affairs. She also accused Dorothy of being nosy and demanded that she mind her own business.
I felt a deep sense of embarrassment; the people in this neighborhood had been nothing but kind to me, and here my ex-wife was making a scene and disturbing their peace. Part of me wanted to go out there and give her a piece of my mind, but I chose to stick with our plan. Dorothy, bless her heart, apologized to them and explained that she was merely trying to be helpful. She returned to her own home, and shortly after, my ex-wife and daughter left.
After finishing work, I went over to Dorothy’s place to apologize. She brushed it off, mentioning that while she found my wife’s behavior repulsive, she also found the outburst somewhat amusing. I wished I could agree with her, but I knew my wife could be hot-tempered when upset.
If she ever returns, I am determined to confront her and ask her to leave me in peace. She came back again yesterday. I was sitting in my home office when I heard a loud crash. Rushing out to the living room, I found my front window smashed, and people were outside screaming. I thought there might be a maniac on the loose, and it turns out I wasn’t entirely wrong; it was my ex-wife.
She had smashed my window, and my neighbors were out there trying to stop her. Apparently, she had been causing a ruckus for a while, but I hadn’t heard it because I had my noise-canceling headphones on while doing some QA work. Frankly, I wouldn’t have heard her even if I hadn’t paused the mic for a break.
When I got outside, two of my elderly neighbors were doing their best to restrain my ex from causing more damage. Both she and Layla were holding bats, and they had already broken a few of my potted plants. I grabbed her by the arm and asked if she had lost her damn marbles. Needless to say, she was shocked to see me, or rather, shocked to see me alive.
I told both her and my daughter to get off my property before I called the cops. Unbeknownst to me, my neighbors had already placed the call. She seemed hurt by my words and asked why I hadn’t contacted her after I got better. She insisted that she and Layla would have come back. I told her that when we got married, we made vows to stand by each other in sickness and health, and she broke those vows. I wanted nothing to do with her anymore; she’s no longer my wife. I sent the divorce papers months ago.
I asked her again to leave; then she asked about our daughter and mentioned that she’s going to college next year and she can’t afford the tuition on her own. I replied, “Your daughter was fine with abandoning me too, and I’m ready to give up all my parental rights to you. You should have thought of that before you abandoned me.
I don’t want anything to do with either of you.” After hearing that, she went from upset to angry, calling me selfish and heartless, which I found rather amusing given the circumstances. She’s the last person who should be calling anyone selfish. I screamed back, called her an entitled jerk, and made it clear that I’d ensure she never got a dime from me again.
Then she swung at me with a bat, just as the cop showed up. They immediately arrested both her and my daughter. They asked if I wanted to press charges, and of course, I did. My ex and daughter started crying loudly as they were loaded into the back of the police car,
and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. I decided to write this update while I wait to hear back from the insurance company about the window. The neighbors and I gave our statements to the police, and they told me to take some pictures of the damage and send them to my insurance agent. They assured me that my ex and daughter would be held for at least 48 hours and probably longer since they were facing multiple charges, including property damage and assault.
I can’t believe they would resort to violence like this. I’m glad the police were there to stop them, and I hope this serves as a wake-up call for them. I want nothing more to do with them, and I hope this incident finally gets that message across.
Update number three: My insurance claim for the broken window went through, and it will be repaired soon. I also heard back from the prosecutor’s office about the charges against my ex-wife and daughter. They will be facing multiple charges, including property damage, assault, and criminal trespassing. I’m fully cooperating with the authorities and providing any evidence or testimony they need.
Since my ex and daughter are in police custody, and I don’t want to deal with the stress of a trial, I’m considering pursuing a restraining order against them. I’ve consulted with a lawyer about this and am awaiting their guidance on the matter. My main priority is ensuring my safety and peace of mind.
On a more positive note, I’ve been enjoying my life without the constant drama and stress they brought. I’ve been focusing on my job, my hobbies, and my newfound friendships with my neighbors. Dorothy and I have become good friends, and she’s been a tremendous source of support and encouragement.
My brother and his family also visited recently, and it was great to see my nieces and nephews. They’re growing up so fast, and it was heartwarming to spend time with them. My brother and I had a long conversation about everything that has happened, and he expressed his full support for my decision to cut ties with my ex-wife and daughter. He admitted that he had been worried about my well-being for a long time and was relieved to see me moving forward in a healthier direction.
As for Cara, she’s been an absolute gem. She continues to live in the house I gave her, and we’ve become close friends. We often spend evenings talking about our experiences and supporting each other through life’s challenges. She’s also doing well in her studies and is looking forward to completing her radiology program. I’m proud of her resilience and determination.
Overall, life has taken a turn for the better, and I’m grateful for the support and positivity that has surrounded me. I’m looking forward to a future free from the toxic influence of my ex-wife and daughter, and I’m determined to make the most of every day.
Update number four: It’s been a few months since the incident with my ex-wife and daughter, and they’ve since been released from custody. They both pleaded guilty to the charges against them and were given probation along with mandatory anger management counseling.
I decided not to pursue a restraining order as I thought it would only further complicate my life, and I wanted to put this chapter behind me. However, I did make it clear to them that I wanted no contact whatsoever. I didn’t want them anywhere near my new home, and I told them I would call the police if they attempted to approach me.
Since their release, they’ve left me alone, and I haven’t heard from them. Frankly, I’m relieved that they seem to have finally accepted the reality of our situation. I’ve continued to focus on my work, hobbies, and friendships, and life has been relatively peaceful.
Cara is doing exceptionally well, and I’m proud of her progress in her studies. She’s become an integral part of my life, and I cherish our friendship. We recently celebrated my second year of being cancer-free, and it was a joyous occasion filled with gratitude for the support and love I’ve received from friends and neighbors.
As for my living situation, I’ve grown fond of my new home and the serene countryside. The memories of my old house, tainted by the painful experiences with my ex-wife and daughter, have started to fade. I’ve even started exploring new interests, like gardening, and I’m slowly but surely building a beautiful garden in my backyard.
Life has a way of moving forward, and I’m embracing the journey with open arms. While the past was marked by challenges and heartache, the present is filled with hope and new beginnings. I look forward to the future with optimism and a sense of contentment I haven’t felt in a long time.