But it had also become something much larger than the mistake that created it.
I looked at Anna.
“Do you hate her?”
Anna was silent for a long time.
Then she shook her head.
“I did.”
She wiped her cheek.
“For years, I did.”
“And now?”
“I don’t know.”
I understood.
There are some wounds that don’t disappear simply because someone apologizes.
But sometimes understanding the reason behind a wound changes the way you carry it.
I looked toward the window.
“I loved you.”
Anna smiled sadly.
“I loved you too.”
“I never stopped wondering what happened.”
“Neither did I.”
We sat there quietly.
Two people who had once been twenty years old.
Two people who had spent nearly four decades believing a different version of the same story.
Then Anna said something unexpected.
“David, you need to know one more thing.”
I looked at her.
“There’s a reason Carol waited until the end.”
“What?”
“She didn’t just want you to find me.”
Anna reached into the drawer one final time.
This time she pulled out a small photograph.
It was old and slightly faded.
I recognized the picture immediately.
It was from college.
Anna and I were standing together beneath a tree.
