Aunt Rachel.
I read those two words again.
And again.
By the
time my students arrived, I had hidden the note inside my desk because I knew I would cry if I looked at it one more time.Enroll in Classes
That evening, I took it home.
Paul was in the kitchen.
I handed it to him without explaining.
He read it.
His eyes lingered on the first two words.
Then he looked at me.
“How does that feel?”
I considered the question.
“Happy.”
Then I added quietly, “And sad.”
Paul nodded.
He understood.
He reached toward my hand.
Then, remembering the distance I had asked for, he stopped before touching me.
For several seconds, his hand rested between us.
This time, I was the one who closed the distance.
I slipped my fingers into his.
Because loving Lily did not mean losing Maggie again.
And forgiving Paul did not mean pretending he had never hurt me.
