The box wasn’t heavy, but as I pulled it into the …
“She told me,” he said quietly. “She knew she wouldn’t have much time left, and she told me about the box. She told me to wait until you were ready. She said that for twelve years, she watched you give up your own dreams for her, and she felt like a burden. She wanted to make sure that the final chapter of her life—the one you made comfortable—wasn’t the only thing she left you with.”
“I don’t understand,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Why all of this? Why keep it hidden?”
“Because she didn’t want you to feel obligated to be her caretaker because of a potential inheritance,” David said, tears welling in his eyes. “She wanted you to care for her because she was family, not because of a business transaction. She wanted to see if you were the kind of person who would stay even if there was nothing to gain.”
I sat in silence, the weight of the last twelve years suddenly shifting. I had felt trapped. I had felt resentful. I had felt like I was watching my life wither away in the service of a ghost. But in the reality of those twelve years, I hadn’t been losing my time—I had been earning a life.
