Mr. Calloway had kept everything.
Even after years of pretending not to care.
Then I noticed one final box sitting alone on a table.
It had my name on it.
My hands shook as I opened it.
Inside was a letter.
“If you are reading this,” it began, “then I am finally gone. And if my children threw you out like I suspect they would, then they are even more foolish than I thought.”
I looked over at Daniel. His face burned with shame.
The letter continued:
“You stayed when nobody else did. You listened when nobody else cared enough to hear me. I spent most of my life pushing people away because I was afraid of losing them. By the time I understood that, it was too late.”
Tears blurred my vision.
Then came the final sentence.
“The house has already been transferred into your name.”
Silence filled the basement.
Daniel stared at me in complete shock.
“What…?” he whispered.
Attached to the letter were legal documents signed months before his death.
Mr. Calloway had left everything to me.
