I crossed the parking lot, and she wrapped her arms around me, holding on the way she used to when she was small and scared of thunderstorms.
“I’m sorry,” I said into her hair. “I’m so sorry if I hurt you. If I did something wrong…”
She pulled back, wiping her eyes. “You didn’t. You never did.”
“Then why..?”
She reached into her bag, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to me with shaking hands.
“I’m so sorry if I hurt you.”
Inside were two boarding passes and a handwritten note:
“For 11 years, you showed up for me. You gave up trips, sleep, weekends… everything. You never asked for anything back. You stayed, even when I made it hard. So, I packed your things… because it’s finally your turn to be taken care of.”
I looked up at her, speechless.
“I used part of Dad’s inheritance,” she said quickly, words tumbling out. “And my savings from the bookstore. And the freelance graphic design work I’ve been doing on weekends for the past year.”
“You stayed, even when I made it hard.”
Continue reading…
