The porch light flickered on, as if the house didn’t know what to do either.
For illustrative purposes only
The next morning, I called Gina and Alex.
They arrived with worried faces and coffee cups.
“Everything okay, Mom?” Alex asked.
I placed the letter on the table.
“Read it.”
They did.
Gina covered her mouth. Alex clenched his jaw.
“He let us think he was a monster,” Alex said.
“He was dying,” I replied quietly. “And he made sure I never saw it.”
“He thought he was protecting you,” Gina whispered.
“Maybe,” I said. “But he took away my choice. And left me with the pain.”
Silence followed.
Then I added softly, “But maybe… it worked.”
A week later, Alex came by again, alone, holding another envelope.
