Leo went quiet after the funeral. He would spend long hours in his room or disappear on evening walks without explaining where he was going. Sometimes I would catch him looking at old family photos while pretending not to cry.
I didn’t know how to comfort him, because I barely knew how to stand.
At first, we survived through silence.
Two sad people move carefully around each other in a house full of memories.
But grief changes form over time.
And finally the sadness became fear.
I started waking up in the middle of the night panicking about money.
How long could I afford the mortgage on my own?
What if I got sick too?
What if I lost the house completely?
Anxiety followed me everywhere. Shopping at the supermarket turned into stressful calculations. Every closed envelope seemed threatening to me.
One night, after looking at unpaid bills for almost an hour, I finally asked Leo to sit with me at the kitchen table.
The light from above cast soft yellow shadows on his tired face.
“I need to talk to you about something difficult,” I said quietly.
He nodded immediately.
I explained everything as politely as I could.
