On the morning I moved out, Margaret stood near the entrance while the chauffeur loaded my belongings into a car.
I had expected her to make a cutting remark.
Instead, she handed me a small envelope.
“What is this?” I asked.
“Something I should have given you earlier.”
Inside was a handwritten note.
It read:
Daniel, you came into my life wanting money. I cannot blame you entirely for that. The world teaches people to measure security in numbers, and fear makes those numbers seem more important than anything else.
But money can provide comfort without providing character. It can open doors without teaching you how to walk through them.
I hope you build a life you can respect.
Margaret.
I read the note twice.
“Why are you giving me this?”
“Because I don’t want our marriage to be the only lesson you take from it.”
I swallowed.
“I treated you badly.”
