Just two days ago, I'd been discussing with my parents the idea of adding his name to the deed so he'd feel more secure.
But now, he had let me down.
My emotions surged, and a rush of warmth spread between my legs.
I'd barely been out of the operating room. I was bleeding again.
My mother's face drained of color. "Stop talking. Get her to the ER. Now."
By the time they finally stabilized me, my father was pacing back and forth beside my bed.
The doctor spoke gravely. "I don't care what's going on in your family. For the next few days, do not let this woman get upset."
"No anger. No arguments. She needs rest."
My father patted my hand after hearing that.
"Sweetheart, you can't be getting worked up during recovery. This can't go on."
"Jim married into our family. He's one of us now. Giving a little more just means it's shared property between the two of you."
"It's just a house. If he wants it, let him have it. Anything that can be solved with money isn't worth losing sleep over."
My mother chimed in too.
"Money is money. It doesn't matter. What matters right now is your health."