So, our grandma, bless her heart, lived in an old trailer for years. Shame to say, but my spouse waited for her to pass away, thinking she had MILLIONS that we’d get. His behavior was unbelievable, really. Cut to the will reading day, he almost rubbed his hands, waiting.

The lawyer said, “Who is the husband here?” Then he explained what was wrong. God, looks like Grandma had outsmarted everyone! It turned out, she…

…left something entirely unexpected behind. It wasn’t a suitcase full of money or some hidden bank account with her name on it. In fact, she didn’t even have the old trailer in her name anymore. Sometime in the last year of her life,

Grandma had sold that trailer to her longtime friend, who lived just across the street. The friend had apparently been paying her a small monthly sum, and Grandma used that money to travel—quietly—just a little bit. It wasn’t anything glamorous;

a two-day bus trip to visit cousins in another state, a weekend stay in a beach cabin, and small day trips to scenic spots nearby. Clearly, she hadn’t spent her final years in misery. She found time for living, even if it was in tiny bits here and there.

And as for the rest of her estate? Turns out there wasn’t much: she had always lived modestly.

But here’s the twist: along with the usual knickknacks, the lawyer said Grandma had written a personal letter to me, asking I open it in private. I stared at the envelope, feeling my spouse’s eyes practically drilling holes in it,

expecting there to be a secret bank account number or something big. But the lawyer clearly stated there was “no hidden fortune.” My spouse grew furious. He wasn’t even subtle; he demanded that the lawyer “double-check everything.”

It was embarrassing. The lawyer shook his head, said he’d done all the searches, and insisted there was nothing else to be gained.

When we got home, my spouse—let’s call him Bernard—insisted I open Grandma’s letter right away. I could see his excitement fading, replaced by desperation, as he pinned his hopes on that single envelope. I felt uneasy.

Grandma meant a great deal to me, but the way Bernard was acting made me dread reading her final words in front of him. I told him I needed a moment alone, just me and Grandma’s letter.