I swallowed.
“Yes.”
His voice softened.
“A reason to live again.”
“Yes.”
David nodded.
“We understand that now.”
I looked at him.
“When?”
He answered quietly.
“Too late.”
The doorbell rang.
None of us moved.
Then Ryan reached into the box again and pulled out one final photograph.
It showed me crossing the graduation stage that afternoon.
My heart stopped.
“Where did you get this?”
Ryan’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“We were there.”
I looked up sharply.
“What?”
David nodded.
“We came to the ceremony.”
“I looked for you.”
“We sat near the back.”
“Why didn’t you come to me afterward?”
Ryan stared at the floor.
“We didn’t know whether you’d want us there.”
I looked down at the photograph.
“You watched me graduate?”
David’s voice trembled.
“Every second.”
Something inside me finally cracked.
Not into forgiveness.
Not yet.
Into grief.
Grief for every dinner we had missed.
