Then Asterion was acquired.
The numbers changed.
Seven figures became eight.
And the part of Ryan he thought he had buried came back.
Stronger.
Hungrier.
He wrote:
I loved you, and I still chose the money.
That is the only answer I have.
I stopped reading.
I tore the letter once.
Then again.
Then again.
I fed the pieces into the kitchen sink and ran water over them until the ink bled into blue veins.
People sometimes ask whether my mother forgave Ryan.
No.
Forgiveness was never the destination.
She learned to ride the bus again.
That mattered more.
She replanted the flower bed she had neglected after the attack.
That mattered more.
She returned to the grocery store alone.
She stopped checking the driveway every time she heard an engine.
She laughed loudly in restaurants.
She complained about the price of butter.
She lived.
That mattered more.
I learned to sleep without waking at every sound.
