I MARRIED A WIDOWER WITH A YOUNG SON — ONE DAY, THE BOY TOLD ME THAT HIS REAL MOM STILL LIVES IN OUR HOUSE. When I married Ben, I thought I knew what I was signing up for. He was a widower raising his five-year-old son Lucas. The first few months were blissful, and Lucas quickly started calling me "Mom." Ben and I shared proud smiles every time he did. But one night, as I tucked Lucas into bed, he whispered something that sent a chill down my spine: "MY REAL MOM STILL LIVES HERE." I brushed it off as his imagination, but strange things started happening. Lucas's toys would reappear exactly where I'd just cleaned, kitchen cabinets rearranged themselves overnight, and the photo of Ben's late wife, which I'd moved, kept returning to its original spot, perfectly dusted. The strangest part? Ben acted like everything was normal. One evening, as Lucas and I played in the living room, he looked up at me with wide eyes. "MOM SAYS YOU SHOULDN'T TOUCH HER THINGS," he whispered, glancing toward the hallway. "What do you mean, sweetie?" I asked, my heart racing.⬇️