“No… no, that’s not—”
But I knew you wouldn’t leave willingly. You loved that house. You would’ve stayed and drowned with me.
A sob broke out of me.
So I made you hate me instead.
I covered my mouth, but it didn’t stop the sound.
Every month, I put away what I pretended to demand from you.
My heart felt like it was being torn open.
The house was sold last month. The debt is cleared. This money is yours now.
I could barely breathe.
I was diagnosed six months after your father passed. By the time I knew, it was already too late.
The words blurred through my tears.
So I focused on what I could still control… making sure you’d be okay when I couldn’t be here anymore.
I pressed my forehead against the screen.
“I didn’t know…” I whispered.
I’m sorry I made you think I didn’t want you.
The final line hit harder than anything else.
It was the only way I knew to save you.
Go live, kid.
