Chapter 8 - The Sister’s Regret
Ashley was the next to break.
Without my money,
her "boutique" had folded in weeks.
Her husband had left her the moment the accounts were frozen.
She was living in a studio apartment in a part of town she used to mock.
She sent a letter to the apartment in New York.
It wasn't a demand for money.
It was a long,
rambling apology.
"I was jealous,
Daniel."
"I saw how much you loved her,"
"I saw the life you were building,"
"And I felt small."
"Mother told me we were just 'taking our share,'"
"But I knew it was wrong."
"I see her face every night when I close my eyes,"
"The way she looked at me when I told her she was nothing."
"I am the one who is nothing now."
I read the letter to Emily while we were having breakfast.
She listened in silence,
her eyes fixed on her coffee cup.
"Do you believe her?"
I asked.
"It doesn't matter if I do,"
Emily replied.
"An apology doesn't give me back those five years."
"It doesn't heal the burns on my hands."
"But,"
she paused,
looking out at the park.
"I don't want to carry the anger anymore."
"It’s too heavy,
Daniel."
"If she’s truly sorry,"
"Let her live with what she did."
"We’re not going to help her?"
I asked.
"No,"
Emily said firmly.
"Forgiveness isn't the same as a handout."
"She needs to find out who she is without your money."
I realized then that Emily’s healing was almost complete.
She wasn't looking for revenge.
She was looking for peace.
I sent a short note back to Ashley.
We received your letter.
Emily has moved on.
I suggests you do the same.
Do not write again.
It was the final cord to be cut.
My sister was a stranger.
My brother was a ghost.
May you like
My mother was a lesson.
And my wife was my world.
