Chapter 8 - THE LETTER FROM THE PAST
Margaret Kinsley moved into a protected residential apartment while her situation was reviewed.
Roman visited every day.
They talked about ordinary things.
The food she missed.
The books she loved.
The years she'd lost.
One afternoon, Margaret handed him a letter.
“I wrote this when I thought I'd never see you again.”
Roman opened it.
The paper was yellowed.
The handwriting shaky.
My dearest Roman,
If this letter ever reaches you, I hope you know I never stopped loving you.
I didn't leave because I wanted to.
I didn't disappear because you weren't enough.
I was taken from you.
Roman's vision blurred.
He continued reading.
I hope you grew into a kind man.
I hope you found people who love you for who you are, not what you own.
And I hope you never confuse power with happiness.
Roman closed the letter.
Margaret watched him.
“Are you happy, sweetheart?”
He looked away.
For forty-one years, he had measured happiness in victories.
Money.
Territory.
Respect.
But sitting beside his mother, he realized none of those things had ever made him feel whole.
“I don't know,” he admitted.
May you like
Margaret took his hand.
“Then maybe it's time you found out.”
