“I understand.”
“Do you? Because I am not the twenty-one-year-old woman who believed every beautiful thing you said.”
He sighed.
“I deserve that.”
“No, Daniel. This is not about what you deserve. It is about what Grace deserves.”
I ended the call.
My hands were shaking, but I did not cry.
Not because the past no longer hurt, but because it no longer controlled me.
I thought that was the end of the matter.
I was wrong.
Three days later, Daniel appeared outside my mother’s house.
I was visiting her with Grace when my younger sister came inside looking surprised.
“Amara, there is a man outside asking for you.”
“Who?”
She hesitated.
“Daniel.”
My heart began to pound.
I went outside alone.
He stood beside his car, holding a small gift bag. He looked older than I remembered, with tired eyes and a face that seemed to have lost some of its confidence.
