She stepped out and walked around to help Margaret, who moved carefully with her cane. As they approached the porch, the front door opened and Lisa’s husband, David, appeared with a warm smile.

“Welcome home, Margaret,” he said.

Margaret froze. “I don’t understand.”

Lisa gently guided her forward. “David and I bought this house three months ago. We’ve been fixing it up ever since.”

Inside, sunlight filled a bright living room. Margaret gasped softly. The furniture looked familiar—because it was. Her favorite chair sat near the window. Her handmade quilts covered the sofa. Her books lined the shelves. Family photographs framed the mantel above a brick fireplace.

“This… this can’t be real,” Margaret whispered.

Lisa led her through a thoughtfully designed kitchen, past a dining room where Margaret’s cherished oak table stood, and toward a door at the back.

“This is your space,” Lisa said, opening it.

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