His eyes fill with tears.
I would like to.
We talked for almost two hours.
Not like an eighty-year-old woman and a man of twenty in love with each other.
But as two people whose lives had been linked to the secrets of the same family.
He told me about Linda.
I told him about Richard.
And for the first time, neither was trying to get anything from the other.
A few months later, Sarah asked me:
Mom, did you forgive us?
I thought before I answered.
I love you.
That’s not what I asked.
I know.
I took her by the hand.
Forgiveness may come. Trust must be rebuilt.
He started crying.
I thought we were doing what was best for you.
That’s the problem, Sarah. Everyone in this story decided what was best for me without asking me.
