“Why?”
“I found your letters,” she whispered. “Elizabeth never stopped reading them.
Even after all those years.”
“She passed away last year.
I lost the house, too.”
At Elizabeth’s grave, I whispered, “I made it. I’m here.”
But I was too late.
Lauren stayed. She took a job at the local nursing home.
I bought back Elizabeth’s house.
One evening, Susan hesitated as I invited her to stay.
“James, I… I don’t want to be a burden.”
“You’re not,” I said simply.
“You just wanted a home. So did I.”
Then Lauren moved in, too.
Every evening, we sat in the garden, playing chess, watching the sky shift colors.
