“How long?” I asked.
He looked at the screen. “Since March 2011.”
That was two months before our wedding.
The manager unlocked the gate and pointed me in the right direction.
The entire walk there felt surreal.
I kept telling myself it was probably old furniture. Maybe boxes from college. Maybe things he forgot about years ago.
But deep down, I knew that wasn’t why he had hidden it.
When I finally reached the unit, my hands were shaking.
The lock looked old and used, but not abandoned. I stared at it for several seconds before sliding the key inside.
The metal door rattled loudly as I slowly pulled it upward.
At first, I couldn’t process what I was looking at. Then my eyes adjusted. And the moment I realized what was inside… I nearly lost consciousness.
The unit was arranged like a room.
There was a covered sofa, a small bookshelf, plastic bins stacked neatly along one wall, and a rocking chair with a stuffed rabbit on the seat.
But what made my knees weaken were the photographs. They covered a corkboard at the back.
The photos showed Mark holding a newborn, Mark sitting beside a dark-haired woman, and Mark kneeling next to a little girl in a purple dress.
The same girl appeared again and again.
Then I saw the cards pinned between the pictures.
“Dad, you’re my hero.”
“Dad, thanks for coming to my recital.”
“Dad, I love you.”
