She had known. All along. And she hadn’t told me.
“…I’ve done everything I can for you, and I want you to know how proud I am of the woman you’ve become.”
Beneath the letter was a bank statement—an account in my name. A savings fund she had built quietly, piece by piece, while hiding her pain. She had been loving me in silence, preparing me for a future she knew she wouldn’t see.
And I… I had thrown her love into a drawer. If only I had understood. If only I had listened.
If only I had known how little “time” we really had. Note: This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Names, characters, and details have been altered.
Any resemblance is coincidental. The author and publisher disclaim accuracy, liability, and responsibility for interpretations or reliance. All images are for illustration purposes only.
