I LET A HOMELESS WOMAN STAY IN MY GARAGE – ONE DAY I WALKED IN WITHOUT KNOCKING
I am 61 years old, a millionaire by inheritance, but against that wealth, my life seemed empty. My parents died when I was 20, leaving me a luxurious estate, but no one to share it with.
I never built a family, as women came and went, but I always felt like they were only interested in my money.
One day, I saw a fragile woman rummaging through the trash. Her eyes expressed resilience next to her situation. The compassion touched me.
I approached her gently. “Can I help you?” She hesitated, then introduced herself as Lexi, explaining that her husband had left her for a pregnant mistress, ruining her career and leaving her homeless.
Without hesitation, I recommended that she stay in my garage, which was spacious and well-equipped. Lexi couldn’t believe her luck.
Then one afternoon, I was leaning to grab a pump from the garage. Lexi usually went out during the day, so I didn’t bother knocking. But as I opened the door, I froze in place. There was Lexi—but not the Lexi I knew! Details below 
A 61-year-old millionaire heir lived on a large estate, but despite his wealth, he saw a deep void. The women who came into his life seemed more attracted to his money than to him, preventing him from building a real family. One day, in town, he saw a woman rummaging through trash cans. She was frail in appearance, but her eyes were full of resilience. Touched by compassion, he approached her gently.
She introduced herself as Lexi and told him her story: her husband had left her for another pregnant woman, abandoning her and ruining her artistic career. Moved by her plight, he offered her a temporary stay in his garage, which had been converted into a guest house. At first wary, she eventually accepted, convinced by the lack of conditions attached to this help.
The days passed, and although Lexi led her life completely independently, they began to chat during occasional meals. He detected in her a woman with a strong character, full of wit and humor, and he loved these moments of budding complicity. One evening, she confided in him her former passion for art and her shattered dream of being a painter.
One afternoon, while looking for a compressor, he entered the garage without knocking. There, he discovered dozens of paintings depicting frightening versions of himself: chained, eyes bleeding, lying in a coffin. Troubled and hurt, he quietly left the room without her seeing him.
During dinner, he could not contain his discomfort and confronted her. Lexi, destabilized, explained to him that she had poured out her anger and frustration on the canvas, but that in reality, he was not the target of this hatred. Despite her apologies, he could not overcome his confusion and asked her to leave. The next day, he took her to a shelter and gave her money before letting her go, a heavy silence between them.
The weeks passed, but the emptiness inside him intensified. He thought back to their conversations, to Lexi’s presence who, in an unexpected way, had filled part of his loneliness. Then one day, a package arrived at his house. Inside, a painting different from the previous ones: a serene portrait of him, full of sweetness. A note was attached, signed with Lexi’s first name and accompanied by her number.
Hesitating for a moment, he finally dialed her number. When she answered, he confided in her how much the painting had affected him. Lexi confessed that she had wanted to repair the image she had left him. They both acknowledged their wrongdoing, and he offered her dinner to start over on a new basis. Lexi accepted enthusiastically, revealing that she had found a job and was about to rent an apartment.
As he hung up, he felt a smile grow on his face. For the first time in a long time, he was looking forward to sharing a moment with someone.
