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The marriage between Marina and Elias had been a sanctuary of sixteen years, built not on grand gestures, but on the sturdy, quiet architecture of routine. They were two people who had mastered the art of the shared silence, the knowing glance across a dinner table, and the gentle comfort of a life intertwined. When Elias passed away unexpectedly, the world did not just stop for Marina; it collapsed. Grief was not a concept to her; it was a physical weight, a suffocating wave that threatened to pull her under every time she tried to draw breath. However, in the wake of his death, she found that grief was only the first of many trials she would have to endure.
The reading of the will was supposed to be a finality, a structured way to honor Elias’s wishes and provide Marina with the security of the home they had shared. She sat in the lawyer’s office, her hands knotted so tightly in her lap that her knuckles turned white, expecting a document that reflected the sixteen years of devotion she had given. Instead, the air in the room seemed to freeze as the lawyer’s voice droned on. Elias had left everything—the house, the savings, the life they had built—to his children from his first marriage. There was no mention of Marina. No provision for the woman who had held his hand through illnesses and celebrated his every success.
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