I looked at him for a long time.
There was the boy I had loved, trapped inside an old man’s face.
But there was also the man who had allowed me to mourn him while he lived another life.
I could feel pity for him without pretending he had done nothing wrong.
“I can forgive you for being afraid,” I said at last. “I can forgive you for being a frightened young man who didn’t know how to face the consequences of his choices.”
His eyes filled with hope.
“But I cannot forgive you by pretending those years didn’t matter.”
His expression fell.
“I waited for you, Thomas. I didn’t wait because you asked me to. I waited because I believed you were dead, and some part of me couldn’t bear to close the door on a man who might still be alive.”
I paused to steady my voice.
“You had the right to build another life. You had the right to marry, to have children, and to be happy. But I had the right to know the truth, too.”
