One afternoon, I asked her why no one ever came to visit her. She hesitated, then said softly, "Some people spend their lives building walls. In the end, those walls hold up very well."
The days passed. Daniel gradually regained his strength. Margaret, on the other hand, seemed to waste away.
The morning she left the ward, she asked me to come closer. Her hand was trembling as she slipped something under her pillow and placed it in my palm: an old, worn, crumpled, and faded banknote, worth almost nothing.
"Keep it," she whispered.
I tried to refuse, but she wrapped my fingers around and met my gaze.
"Promise me you won't ignore what I'm going to tell you," she said.
Perplexed, I nodded.
"This bill saved my life," she whispered. "And soon, it might change yours, but only if you have the courage to consider my name."
Before I could ask her what she meant, a nurse arrived to take her away, leaving me there, rooted to the spot, staring at the trembling banknote in my hand.
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