When the door opened, I saw my sister.
She had lost weight, and exhaustion showed on her face.
For several seconds, we simply stared at each other.
Then she began crying.
“Margaret, please forgive me. I misunderstood everything back then. Years later, I found Mom’s inheritance documents and realized you hadn’t taken anything.”
I wrapped my arms around her.
“We lost twelve years, Sarah.”
She whispered:
“But we still have time.”
Just then, two children came out of the living room.
A little girl and a boy.
They stopped in front of me.
“Are you our Aunt Margaret?” the little girl asked.
I knelt in front of her.
“Yes, sweetheart. I am.”
She threw her arms around my neck.
“Mommy told us you were very kind when you were little.”
I couldn’t hold back my tears.
Eight months have passed.
Sarah’s health has improved, and she has returned to work. Her children now visit our house regularly.
