The income from this activity was enough to cover Daniel's medical expenses, and even more.
That's when I understood. The gift wasn't wealth. It was an opportunity, discreetly offered to someone who had stepped forward when no one else had.
Life gradually returned to normal, but I wasn't the same person anymore. Daniel recovered and went back to work. I increased my hours and used the rental income to build up an emergency fund we'd never had before. More than anything, Margaret's story affected me deeply.
I've often thought about how easily I could have ignored it. I was exhausted, stressed, overwhelmed. I had every reason to focus solely on my own suffering. Yet, a simple decision—to share an extra meal—had created a bond between two strangers, a bond that changed our lives forever.
Months later, I returned to the old house where Margaret had lived. I felt not sadness, but gratitude. She had been alone, certainly, but she hadn't been forgotten. Not really. She had chosen the ending of her story.
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