My Granny Asked Me to Look After Her House but Warned Me Never to Open the Locked Room – Story of the Day

When my grandma landed in the hospital, she begged me to feed her cat—and made me promise never to open the basement. I agreed, but the moment I stepped into her house, curiosity started scratching at me louder than any hungry pet.

It was still dark when the phone rang, sharp and shrill, cutting through my dreams. I groped for it on the nightstand, knocking over a glass of water in the process.

My fingers missed the answer button twice before I finally pressed it.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Are you Anna?” A woman’s voice, firm but calm.

“Yes… I’m Anna.”

“Your grandmother was brought in early this morning.”

I sat up straight. My heart felt like it skipped a beat.

“Oh no... What happened?”

“Don’t worry, she’s stable. She slipped in her bathroom. She asked you to come as soon as possible. She says it’s urgent.”

“I’m on my way!” I said, throwing the blanket off. My feet hit the cold floor.

I yanked on a pair of jeans and a sweater, barely noticing the inside-out sleeves. Then, jammed my keys in my pocket, grabbed my phone, and rushed out the door.

The streets were nearly empty, just a few porch lights glowing here and there.

Fifteen minutes later, I pulled into the hospital lot, parked crooked, and jogged toward the sliding doors.

The smell of antiseptic and coffee hit me at once. The waiting room was crowded, a low hum of voices and the beep of machines somewhere down the hall.

I sat, but my knee bounced.

Why didn’t she call herself? Why so urgent? Was there something more the nurse didn’t say?

Finally, a woman in scrubs stepped forward. “Anna?”

“Yes,” I said quickly.

“Follow me.”

When we reached the room, I saw Grandma propped up in bed, a cast on her leg, waving at me like nothing was wrong. I hurried to her side.

“Grandma!”

“How bad is it? Does it hurt?”

She snorted. “Bathrooms are a trap. One wrong step and... Bam! We should sue the tile makers.”

I shook my head, half smiling despite the worry in my chest.

“So what’s the big emergency?”

Her eyes lit up, like she’d been waiting for me to ask. “Perry.”

“Perry?”

“My cat! He needs breakfast. Probably lunch soon, too.”

I let out a breath. “That’s the emergency?”

“What’s more important than feeding him?”

She fished in the side drawer, pulling out a house key and a folded paper.

“Instructions. And one more thing...”

I unfolded the paper. At the bottom, in bold capital letters, it read: “DO NOT OPEN THE BASEMENT.”

“What’s in the basement?”

Grandma's face turned serious. “Promise me, Anna. No matter what, don’t go down there.”

“Fine, fine,” I said, tucking the paper into my pocket. “I promise.”

But as I looked at her, I already knew—I wasn’t going to stop wondering.

***

Grandma’s little white house stood at the end of the gravel drive, the paint slightly chipped, the porch sagging in the middle.

Inside, it was still. Perry was curled in a patch of warm sunlight on the living room rug, his paws tucked under his chest. He cracked one eye at me, gave a lazy blink, and went right back to sleep.

Not exactly the picture of a starving animal.

“Morning, Perry,” I said softly, kneeling to scratch his ear.

He didn’t even purr, just flicked his tail like he was doing me a favor by being there.

I poured kibble into his dish. He finally got up, stretched like an old man, and wandered over, eating one piece at a time.

With him occupied, I let my feet carry me through the rooms.

The air smelled faintly of lavender and wood polish, the kind of smell that had always clung to Grandma’s sweaters. My hand brushed along the smooth edge of the dining table, the cool glass of the cabinet door.

And then I saw it—the basement door.

Grandma’s warning echoed in my head, her eyes sharp when she’d said it: Promise me, Anna.

I told myself I’d just look. Just a peek.

No harm in that. My fingers slid the key into the lock before I could change my mind.

The hinges groaned as the door opened, and a smell rose up: dust, old paper, and something faintly sweet, like dried flowers.

I stepped onto the narrow stairs, the wood creaking under me.

At the bottom, in the dim light, was an old trunk. Its surface was scuffed, the brass latch dull. I knelt and flipped it open. Inside, neat stacks of letters, tied with faded blue ribbon.

I picked one up. The handwriting was careful, looping, almost elegant.

“Dear Mom, please let me see Anna. I promise I’ll explain everything.”

They were all from my mother. The woman I had never met.

Grandma had always said she disappeared.

That she never wrote. That she left me and never looked back.

But there, in my hands, were her words—pleading, promising, apologizing.

I sank down onto the cold concrete floor, reading one letter after another. The basement air wrapped around me, thick and heavy. I didn’t move until my legs were stiff and aching.

And I knew nothing would feel the same after that.

***

By the time I pushed open the hospital room door again, my palms were rough with basement dust, and the smell of old paper still clung to me.

“Grandma,” I said, stepping closer to her bed, “why didn’t you tell me she wrote? Why hide all this?”

Her eyes sharpened like two small points of glass.

“You opened the basement.”

My chest felt tight, like I’d been holding my breath for hours.

“I had to know the truth!”

Grandma reached for my hand.

“Anna, she’s dangerous. She’s after what she wants, nothing more. Those letters... She knows how to write what people want to hear.”

“You don’t know that,” I shot back, pulling slightly away. “You didn’t even give her a chance.”

Grandma's grip tightened. “I know her better than you do. I’m protecting you.”

But the picture of those letters, tied with their soft blue ribbon, was burned into me. The words my mother had written, pleading, promising, seemed to breathe in my ears.

“I have to find her. She’s my mother!”

“I’m begging you, no! You’ll regret this.”

“Grandma… I can’t do otherwise. Forgive me.”

With those words, I left her room. My heart was breaking into pieces. For the first time, I had betrayed Grandma’s trust.

***

That night, I sat at my kitchen table with my laptop, the room dark except for the glow of the screen.

My fingers tapped out search after search, chasing half-remembered details, until finally, a name, a city, and then a phone number. My hand shook as I dialed. One ring. Two. Then a soft click.

“Hello?” A woman’s voice, low and warm.

“Is this Mary?”

“Anna?” she said with sobbing, like she’d been waiting for me all her life.

We met the next day at a little diner on the edge of town. When Mary smiled, it was like watching my own reflection: same curve of the lips, same small gap in the front teeth.

“Daughter… I’m so glad I finally found you.”

“Mom… why are you and Grandma at odds?”

“Oh, that’s a long story. First, we need to make amends. Then… we’ll tell you everything. Let's meet her today.”

“She’s in the hospital. We can go tomorrow.”

Mary shook her head. “Better to surprise her. Let’s go to her house first.”

Something in the way she said it made my stomach twist, but I forced the feeling away. Maybe she wanted to bring flowers, or maybe she just wanted to help tidy up.

We drove in silence. I had a bad feeling. But I was waiting for the truth.

And if things went wrong… I had a plan B.

When I unlocked Grandma’s front door, the smell of lavender and old wood greeted us.

But before I could even step inside fully, Mary was moving. She walked straight down the hall like she already knew where she was going. Toward the basement door.

Oh.My.God. It can't be!

“Wait... What are you doing?” I asked, following her.

“Just checking something,” she said, not turning around.

Her voice was light, but it didn’t match the speed of her steps.

I hurried after her, my heartbeat thudding in my ears.

So it's true!

Mom never wanted me, she wanted something else... Good, I prepared for it.

The basement swallowed us in its dim, musty air.

Mary screamed in disbelief.

“Where is the money!?”

“So this is why you came,” I said, my voice low.

Mary froze for a moment, her hand lingering on the edge of the box. Then a smirk curled on her lips.

“Your grandmother doesn’t need it. But we do. She’s never told you about money, has she?”

“That’s her business. Grandma said you only chase what you want. And she was right. You never loved me.”

“Oh, darling, come on. Of course, I love you. You and I could start fresh somewhere. Think about it. A new city, a new life. Just tell me, where the money is.”

“No. That’s not happening.”

“Don’t be stupid, Anna. This is our chance. You think she’s going to leave you anything?”

I pulled out a phone from my pocket and held it where she could see.

“You should leave. Or... I’m calling the police.”

Her eyes flashed like a match struck in the dark. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

Mary stood there for a beat, the air thick between us. Then she shoved the box back into its hiding place, the sound of it scraping against the wall.

Without looking at me, she brushed past, climbed the stairs, and slammed the front door so hard the frame rattled. I exhaled slowly, my shoulders aching from how tense they’d been.

The money was still safe, because I had moved it before meeting Mary, just in case Grandma had been right.

That evening, I sat by Grandma’s hospital bed. She studied my face for a long time before speaking.

“You saw for yourself, didn’t you?”

“You were protecting me.”

“Always have. Always will. And the money... I've been saving it for your future without me.”

And I knew then... The locked door had never just been about keeping secrets hidden. It was about keeping danger out.

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