When I opened the door, she was holding grocery bags.
Fresh food. Meat. Fruit. Things I hadn’t bought in months.
“I’m not here to argue,” she said. “But I understand pressure, and you’re under a lot of it. Selling isn’t selfish. It’s practical.”
She set the bags down.
“And keeping it?”
Claire hesitated. “Is complicated.”
“Only for you.”
That hit something. She didn’t argue, just nodded once and left.
Mark came the next day.
No gifts. No softened tone.
“You’re not seriously thinking of keeping it,” he said.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“This isn’t what he would’ve wanted.”
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