FREDDY AND HAZEL: THE HOUSE, THE WILL, AND THE HIDDEN ROOM
Freddy sat completely still, trying his best to keep a calm, unreadable face—like a pro poker player at a championship table. He had to stay cool. Especially with Hazel’s fiancé, Mark, sitting beside her, smiling like he’d just won the lottery.
The lawyer, Mr. Schneider, was halfway through reading the will when Hazel blurted out, “Mr. Schneider, but why did I get the main house?”
Freddy saw Mark gently squeeze Hazel’s knee. His smirk only widened.
“Your parents knew that you deserved that house more, babe,” Mark chimed in, oozing smugness.
“Why does she deserve it more?” Freddy asked before he could stop himself. He really didn’t want to argue—but Mark had that effect on him. He always rubbed Freddy the wrong way. Honestly, Freddy never understood why Hazel chose him. Everyone could see he was a gold-digger.
Mark rolled his eyes dramatically, like Freddy had asked the dumbest question on Earth. “Your parents met me. They knew Hazel and I planned to get married, have kids, build a future. All you ever wanted was to travel. You never even brought a girl home. So naturally, the big house should go to someone starting a family,” he said with a shrug, like it was just plain logic.
“Mark, that’s not fair,” Hazel said softly, the same uncertain tone she’d started using ever since she began dating this guy.
Mark chuckled and replied, “It’s more than fair, babe. Why are you looking at me like that? I mean, come on. Your parents made the decision. I didn’t write the will.”
Freddy clenched his jaw, trying not to explode. But his mask was slipping.
Mr. Schneider, sensing the tension, continued reading the rest of the will in an awkward silence.
Once it was all said and done, Hazel slowly raised her hand like she was in high school again.
“Yes, Hazel?” the lawyer asked kindly.
“Maybe it would be better if we both sold the properties and split the money evenly,” she said, her voice small but braver now. Freddy felt a flicker of pride. That was the sister he remembered.
“You gotta be kidding me,” Mark scoffed. “You’d really go against your parents’ wishes? And in this economy? Freddy can fix up that house and still make a good profit. It’s not a handout. It’s generous, considering everything.”
“Mark, maybe you should step out,” Freddy said, calm but firm.
Mark sneered. “So you can talk her into something she doesn’t want to do? No way. Your parents left her the big house for a reason. Hazel loved growing up there. They wanted our kids to grow up there too. They never knew if you’d even stay in this town, let alone have kids, considering—”
“Considering what, Mark?” Freddy interrupted sharply, his voice low but dangerous.
“You know what I mean,” Mark said, frowning.
“No, I don’t. Say it,” Freddy leaned forward in his chair, eyes blazing.
“Gentlemen, please,” Mr. Schneider interjected nervously.
“Freddy,” Hazel warned, trying to calm things down. “Maybe Mark’s right. Our parents were… old-fashioned.”
Freddy blinked. One minute, Hazel had been ready to split everything fairly, and now she was… backtracking? Because of him?
“Old-fashioned? That’s what you’re calling it now?” Freddy asked, lips tight with frustration.
“You know what I mean,” Hazel sighed. “They weren’t hateful. They loved you. But their generation didn’t understand… your life. They didn’t know how to accept what was normal for you. They weren’t sure if you’d ever have kids or settle down.”
“It’s the 21st century, Hazel,” Freddy said, holding back the anger that was boiling inside. “They could’ve turned on the TV and learned.”
“Mark is right, Freddy,” Hazel snapped, surprising him with her sudden confidence—but it wasn’t aimed at Mark. It was at him. “They left me the big house. You get Dad’s old place. It’s still nice. Their decision stands.”
“A decision based on their prejudice?”
“Stop it!” Hazel yelled, her face flushing. “Don’t you dare insult them! They were good parents. You don’t know what they went through, and you weren’t even around most of the time!”
“I’m the spoiled one?” Freddy stood up, pointing at himself. “You’re the one who got everything! After they found out who I really was, it’s like they couldn’t hide their favoritism anymore. Just because I wasn’t a ‘normal’ boy who loved football and girls!”
“They still paid for your ridiculous plays and costumes!” Hazel argued, rising too. “You think that stuff was cheap?”
“It was nothing compared to what they gave you,” Freddy fired back. He hated how whiny it sounded, but it was the truth. “They changed when I changed. When they realized I was different.”
Hazel’s eyes filled with tears. “Stop. Please. They were still our parents.”
Freddy was ready to say more—he had years of pain and anger to unload—but then he looked at Mark. That smug smile was back. Mark was enjoying this. That alone was enough to make Freddy stop.
He threw up his hands. “Fine. I’ll take the house,” he muttered, collapsing back into the chair. The lawyer quickly jumped in to explain paperwork.
Outside the office, Mark wrapped his arm around Hazel’s waist. He gave Freddy a fake smile. “Glad you finally acted your age, Freddy. This is for the best. Now you can go travel, take your little pictures, and date whoever you want.”
Freddy clenched his fists but didn’t reply. Hazel didn’t say anything either. She just walked away with Mark, and that said it all.
THE HOUSE
Freddy moved into the old place a few days later. It was emptier than he remembered, but strangely peaceful. His dad had bought this place before marrying their mom, and it had sat abandoned for years after they moved into the mansion.
It still hurt. His parents hadn’t thought he was “worthy” of the big house. Not good enough for half. But now, this house was his, and he was going to make it work.
He walked through the dusty rooms, notebook in hand. The kitchen and bathrooms were ancient. Freddy figured he’d start remodeling them first.
But when he looked up online how much renovations cost? He nearly fainted.
“Thousands… just in labor?” he muttered. “Nope. I’ll do it myself.”
Freddy rolled up his sleeves, opened his laptop, and watched tutorial after tutorial. It was hard—harder than he expected—but he wasn’t a quitter.
He remembered his high school days in theater, where he built props, painted sets, made costumes. This was just… a bigger stage. Same creativity. More tools.
After his world travels, he had found success in photography. It paid well enough, and his Instagram was full of cool shots and stories. He documented the renovation journey too—each nail, each tile, each moment of doubt.
“See? Theater kids can handle power drills too,” he laughed to himself, showing off a finished wall in his stories.
After two weeks, the kitchen sparkled. Next up: the bathroom.
But as he stood there staring at the mildew and the broken tiles, he sighed.
“Maybe I should paint a bedroom instead,” he said, heading toward a small side room he hadn’t explored yet.
As he stepped inside, he noticed something weird—one corner of the floor looked uneven.
“Don’t tell me the floor’s rotting,” Freddy groaned, kneeling down. He poked at it, expecting soft wood.
Instead, his hand went through the floor.
“What the—?”
He grabbed his flashlight and leaned closer. Under the weak boards, there was… a staircase.
A dark, narrow staircase.
“NOPE. NOPE. NOPE,” Freddy said, jumping up and backing out of the room. He grabbed a blanket and tossed it over the hole. Then he slammed the door, shoved a chair under the handle, and marched out.
“Nope. No horror movie jump scare today. Not me. I’m not that girl,” he said to himself. “Let’s paint the bathroom instead!”
THE SECRET
But Freddy couldn’t stop thinking about it. Days passed. He barely slept.
Eventually, he called Mr. Schneider.
“Mr. Schneider, how do I get the floor plans for my house?”
“Is something wrong?” the lawyer asked.
“Not exactly. I just… think I found a hidden basement.”
Mr. Schneider chuckled. “Ah, could be. My dad’s old place had a bomb shelter we didn’t know about for years. Probably something similar.”
He promised to look into it. A few days later, Freddy got the blueprints—and yes, the basement had always been there. But it had no door, just a trap under the floor.
“Maybe the original owner liked privacy,” the lawyer guessed.
“You think I should open it?”
“That’s up to you,” he replied. “You can seal it, or explore. Your call.”
But Freddy had to know. A voice in his head whispered that this might be the real reason he inherited the house.
He grabbed a hammer and carefully smashed away the rotten boards. Dust flew everywhere, but eventually, the trapdoor creaked open. He descended with his phone flashlight on.
The air smelled like mold and secrets.
Downstairs, there was one room. In the middle—an old wooden desk.
On it, piles of papers. A typewriter.
Freddy blinked. “What is this…?”
He picked up a page. A poem.
At the bottom: “—Milton.”
“Dad?” Freddy whispered. “He wrote this?”
He flipped through more pages—poems of love, loss, life. They were beautiful. Deep. Raw.
And then, under the desk, a dusty ornate box.
Freddy took everything upstairs. He lay on his bed, reading his father’s words with awe. The dad who never accepted his love for art… had been an artist himself.
Inside the box were even more papers—a full novel.
Freddy held the pages like a treasure.
“So this is why they gave me the house…” he whispered.
And then, like a whisper from the past, he remembered his father’s last words:
“One day, you’ll understand.”
At the time, Freddy had thought he meant old-fashioned nonsense. But now…
Now, it meant something else entirely.
Maybe Milton had wanted his son to find this. Maybe this house… was his true inheritance.
Hazel let out a deep breath, placed the fancy box and the stack of papers gently on the coffee table, and slowly stood up. She put both hands on her waist and started pacing around the living room, her mind clearly racing.
“No, no, no, no…” she mumbled, shaking her head. “Look, obviously, I have nothing against you. I love you. And who you love is just part of who you are. But Dad… Dad being gay? That’s just… it’s unbelievable.”
“I know,” Freddy replied quietly, his fingers resting on the box. “That’s why I called you. But I really want you to read what’s in this book, Hazel. Please. I think Dad was going through a lot more than we ever imagined. He had to live in secret, because back then, things were different. People weren’t as accepting. I think he hated himself for it… and he took all that frustration out on me. Maybe because I was free. I could live how I wanted—and he couldn’t.”
Hazel stopped pacing. Her face was full of pain and confusion. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
“What about Mom?” she asked, her voice breaking. “Did he just… force himself to marry her? To have a family he didn’t really want?”
“No, Hazie. I don’t think it was like that,” Freddy said gently. “I think he did love her. But it was different. Maybe not the way people expect love to look. But it was real.”
Hazel let out another sigh, a heavy one this time, like a weight was pressing down on her chest. “It makes sense,” she finally said. “Your theory about this house… about the hidden room, the writings. I think you’re right. Dad wanted you to discover all this. He wanted you to know the truth. That means he never really hated you. He just didn’t know how to deal with everything he was feeling.”
“I’m still not okay with how he treated me growing up,” Freddy admitted. “But reading this book… it changed things for me. I think he loved someone, Hazie. Deeply. And while he didn’t go to war, I think he used that as a metaphor in his writing—for the battle he was fighting inside. I want you to read it. And if you agree… I want to publish it. With his name on it. Everything.”
Hazel covered her mouth for a second. Her voice cracked. “Oh, God… That sounds beautiful.”
Freddy hesitated, then added, “But Hazie… don’t tell your fiancé about this. Not yet.”
“Why not?” Hazel asked, confused.
Freddy took a breath. “Because Mark’s comments at Mr. Schneider’s office worried me. Honestly, I don’t trust him. I never liked the guy. And this… this is something just between us for now.”
Before Hazel could respond, the front door suddenly swung wide open with a loud bang.
Both siblings turned in surprise. The door had been left open earlier, but they hadn’t expected anyone. It was a quiet neighborhood. Safe. But now, Mark stood in the doorway, furious.
“What are you trying to make my wife hide from me?!” he demanded, voice sharp like broken glass.
“Future wife,” Freddy muttered flatly, without even blinking.
Mark’s jaw clenched, and he looked like he was ready to explode. But before he could say anything else, Hazel stepped forward.
“Mark! What are you doing here?” she asked, disappointed and clearly annoyed. “I told you I needed to talk to my brother alone.”
“I’m here because you’re about to be my wife, and I have a right to know what’s going on!” Mark shouted, trying to sound righteous—but sounding more like a child caught snooping.
“I’m not hiding anything from you,” Hazel snapped. “Freddy told me something private. Something not ready to be shared. You don’t get to barge in and demand answers!”
“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” Mark said, stepping closer to her, his voice low and angry.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Freddy warned, stepping forward and positioning himself protectively between Hazel and Mark.
Mark let out a short, bitter laugh. “What? Do you think I was going to hit her? HA! You’re insane!”
Freddy’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t care what you think of me. But you’re not welcome here. You weren’t invited. You just barged into my house. Leave now, or I call the police.”
“I didn’t break in!” Mark yelled. “The door was open!”
“Fine,” Freddy said. “Then it’s trespassing. Either way, you’ve got sixty seconds before I’m on the phone with the cops.”
“I’m your brother-in-law!” Mark argued.
“Not yet,” Freddy said, scanning the room for his phone. “And hopefully not ever.”
Hazel looked Mark dead in the eyes. “It’s Freddy’s house, Mark. You had no right to walk in here like this. Please, just go home.”
Mark took a dramatic step back, acting like he was the one being attacked. “Wow. I see your brother is poisoning your mind. Again. That’s why your parents didn’t want him to have the house. So you wouldn’t have to deal with him.”
Freddy found his phone and started dialing.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Hazel said calmly. “There’s more going on here than you know. I’ll tell you. In time. But right now? This is a sibling thing. Not your business.”
“I don’t care!” Mark yelled, his eyes scanning the coffee table. Then he lunged for the papers and grabbed them roughly. “So this is it! This is the big secret!”
“Mark! Be careful with those!” Hazel shouted, alarmed.
Freddy dropped his phone, stormed over, and yanked Mark’s arms with surprising force. “LET GO! NOW!” he shouted in Mark’s face, eyes full of rage.
“Hazel! Tell him he’s hurting me!” Mark whimpered. “I’ll press charges!”
“LET GO, YOU SPINELESS IDIOT!” Freddy barked.
“MARK! LET GO!” Hazel screamed too, pulling on her fiancé’s arm. “Those papers are important!”
Finally, Mark’s hands opened, and the pages fluttered back onto the couch.
Freddy grabbed the papers and box, clutching them to his chest. His breath was shaky, furious. “I won’t say it again. Get. Out. Of. My. House.”
Mark’s eyes gleamed with something new—greed. “Oh, I see. You found something. Something valuable. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You’re hiding something worth money, and you don’t want to share it!”
“Are you insane?” Hazel asked, hitting his arm. “And even if Freddy did find something, it’s his! It’s legally his house!”
“Shut up!” Mark snapped. “Don’t you see? He’s manipulating you. Like he always does. He didn’t want you to have the house. He’s tricking you into keeping secrets from me!”
Freddy rolled his eyes.
“Hazel, you know I’m right,” Mark whispered close to her ear. “He hates me because you love me more than him. Always have. He’s trying to tear us apart.”
“Hazie, please tell me you’re not falling for that crap,” Freddy said. “Even if you were with a good guy, I wouldn’t have let him in today. This… this is too personal. Too sacred.”
“See? He insults me with no shame,” Mark said, pointing. “And you’re okay with that? You and I are going to have a family, babe. I don’t want our kids near someone who talks to me like this.”
“This is ridiculous,” Freddy exploded.
“Come on, babe,” Mark said, his voice slick now. “Tell me the truth. If this is about money, we’ll get our own lawyer. We’ll get whatever he’s hiding.”
Hazel’s face changed. Something in her snapped.
“ENOUGH!” she screamed, shoving him. Mark fell back onto the sofa, shocked.
“I’m so tired of you!” Hazel shouted. “I can’t believe how long I’ve put up with your crap!”
“What?” Mark asked, stunned.
“WE’RE DONE!” Hazel shouted again. “All you ever cared about was money! You pretended to love my dad just so he’d help you. And you hated it when he didn’t. Well, guess what? He saw through you. So did Mom. That’s why they never trusted you!”
Hazel didn’t stop. She listed everything—how he proposed, his jobless life, his lies, his manipulation. Freddy tried not to laugh, but some parts were too ridiculous not to chuckle at.
“This is your brother’s influence!” Mark said desperately.
“NO! THIS IS ME!” Hazel yelled. “ME! Finally ME!”
She turned to Freddy, voice softer. “I’m sorry about the house. I always wanted it, but I was ready to sell it because… because deep down, I didn’t want him to live there.”
Freddy bit his lip, eyes misty. “Oh, Hazie…”
Tears ran down her cheeks. “Mom and Dad were gone. I thought you’d leave again, go off traveling. I felt stuck. But I’m not. If Dad could finally speak his truth in his own way… then I can do this.”
“Hazel!” Mark yelled, standing up.
“GET OUT!” she ordered. “And stay out!”
“It’s my house too!”
“We’re not married!”
“I’ll fight you on this!”
Freddy held up the phone. “Already talking to Mr. Schneider.”
“Finally,” the lawyer said through the speaker. “Consider it handled.”
“MY RING! I WANT MY RING BACK!” Mark shouted.
“Your ring? That was MY grandmother’s ring! IT’S MINE!” Hazel shrieked and grabbed his arm, dragging him toward the door.
“Freddy! Tell her she’s crazy!” Mark begged.
Freddy grinned. “Nope. She’s finally sane. Good riddance, loser.”
Hazel shoved him out the door and slammed it hard. She leaned her back against it, breathing heavily.
“I think I need to stay here until Mr. Schneider gets rid of him,” she whispered.
“Stay as long as you want,” Freddy said and opened his arms.
She ran into them and held him tight.
“Thank you,” she said.
“No,” Freddy whispered into her hair. “Thank you for waking up.”
Hazel pulled back, sniffling. “Now… can we order some Chinese food? I want to eat, relax, and read Dad’s novel.”
“Deal.”
Months Later…
Publishing their father’s novel turned out to be easier than they thought. Freddy found a few LGBTQ+ owned publishers who immediately saw the value in the story. They offered a fair deal, and Hazel was right beside him through the whole process.
One night, she finished reading the book and sobbed in Freddy’s arms. “I just wish he could’ve lived his truth without fear.”
“Me too,” Freddy said, wiping his own tears.
Hazel handed him her share of the money from the book. “I want to keep the big house. But this—Dad left it to you. So the royalties should be yours.”
“You sure?” Freddy asked.
“Absolutely. But hey… if they ever make a movie, I want in on that.”
They both laughed.
Mr. Schneider kept his promise. Mark disappeared from their lives completely. Word was, he moved away, probably looking for another woman to mooch off.
Freddy remodeled the house and, once the work was done, decided to travel again. He rented it out to a sweet couple and spent a year exploring the world.
When he returned, Hazel had a new boyfriend—kind, successful, and completely unlike Mark. He adored Hazel, and Freddy liked him immediately.
Though the book wasn’t a massive hit, it got glowing reviews. Freddy later published their dad’s poems too, adding a heartfelt prologue explaining everything—because the world needed to understand how powerful love and truth could be.
