Three Months of Mourning

"I appreciate the concern, Sloane. But I'm not afraid of gossip." My tone remained even, with a faint smile still on my face.

Sloane Hayes' smile froze instantly, displeasure nearly spilling from her eyes. She opened her mouth to say more when Donovan Marlowe, who had been eating with his head down, suddenly coughed.

"Enough. We're eating. Why bring this up now?"

Sloane closed her mouth and shot me a vicious glare, clattering her utensils extra loudly.

I ignored their expressions, picked up my utensils, and ate my food slowly without saying another word. Only the harsh sound of utensils clashing filled the dinner table.

Late that night, I woke up parched and got up to get water from the living room.

As I passed Sloane and Donovan's bedroom, their voices carried clearly through the door.

"Did you see his attitude? He's completely unreasonable!" It was Sloane's voice, anxious and angry. "I was planning to clear out his bedroom for Maya to use. But now, look at this. He's obviously planning to stick around and mooch off us!"

"What can we do?" Donovan's voice sounded muffled. "My sister just passed away. If we kick him out now, what will people think of us? We'd be buried in judgment."

"But we can't just let him freeload forever!" Sloane raised her voice, then hastily lowered it again. Your sister is gone. Why is he still living here?"

My fingers tightened slightly around the water glass.

The next second, I heard Donovan say, "We can't kick him out. We need to make him leave on his own. Tomorrow, go ask around the neighborhood and find out how much a bedroom rents for. Starting next month, we'll make him pay rent.

"This is our family's house. We can't let him live and eat here for free. Even if we can't kick him out right now, we can at least make him pay something."

"Pay rent?" Sloane paused, then laughed. "That's brilliant! But what if he refuses?"

Donovan let out a cold laugh. "Talk to my mom. Get her to back you up. He's always listened to my mom. He won't refuse."

I stood outside the door and smiled silently. What a brilliant scheme.

They were living in my house for free, eating my food, and using my things. Now, they wanted me to pay rent and move out so they could give the room to their daughter.

I turned around with my glass of water and slowly walked back to my bedroom.

Back in my room, I pulled out the property deed from the bottom drawer of my nightstand. I flipped to the first page. My name was printed there clearly—Graham Moss.

This apartment was 1,800 square feet in a prime location with an excellent layout. My father had bought it for me as a wedding gift before he moved abroad to settle down.

When Arya Marlowe and I got married, I had no family left in the country, so I moved in with hers.

After the wedding, we never bought a new place. We stayed here.

Later, her brother and sister-in-law lost everything in a failed business venture. With nowhere else to turn, they came crying with their child to seek refuge. My mother-in-law wiped away tears while Arya, softhearted as always, begged me to let them move in.

Even back then, I knew it would be too crowded. Three generations crammed into one apartment were extremely inconvenient.

I offered to rent them a two-bedroom place nearby so that it would not be too tight a squeeze.

However, Sloane's expression immediately darkened as she made a snide remark, "Graham, I don't mean to criticize, but couples need to be practical about money."