On Monday, I unpacked merchandise behind his counter.
When a customer asked whether I was his son, I expected a question about the photograph. Instead, she wanted lightbulbs. I nearly laughed with relief.
At lunch, Dad handed me a sandwich and left me alone with my phone.
I’d signed the refusal papers and submitted my account, yet Nora’s accusation kept spreading. People sharing it didn’t know she’d helped arrange the wedding or that she couldn’t prove I’d expected money.
I called Nora and requested a meeting.
She wanted Alicia’s scarf and bandage ring back; she’d placed them in the box after the funeral.
“I’ll bring them. I also need you to tell the hospital what you actually witnessed.”
“I’m not withdrawing my complaint.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
I did not expect forgiveness. I only hoped she could separate what she feared from what she had witnessed, even while continuing to believe I had crossed a line.
She agreed to Saturday. I gathered the keepsakes, lawyer’s notice, and signed refusal.
***
Nora invited me into her kitchen. I opened the box between us, showing her the scarf and ring.
She touched the fabric, then closed the lid.
“I’m not apologizing,” she said. “I had every right to complain.”
“You did.”
Her hand rested on the box.
“I was her doctor,” I said. “I was responsible for my decision. Her asking didn’t change that.”
“So you admit it. You took advantage of her.”
My face warmed. I still couldn’t defend the marriage honestly.
“I should have refused the marriage. But I didn’t marry her for money.”
“You were in her room every day.”
“Yes. You can tell them that. You can also tell them what you knew about the wedding when you helped with it.”
She withdrew her hand.
“The inheritance changed everything.”
“It raised questions. I understand why.”
I passed her the documents. She checked the dates on the notice and refusal.
“This doesn’t prove you didn’t know.”
“No. It shows when I was formally notified and what I did afterward.”
“You want me to say you’re innocent?”
“I want you to say what you saw. You knew it wasn’t a romance. You helped with the ceremony. You don’t know that I expected money.”
She pushed the papers back.
“People will think I’m taking your side.”
“You can keep your concerns in the statement.”
“And you can get out.” Her voice broke. “I thought I was giving her something good. But you…”
I looked at the box, remembering how carefully she’d fixed Alicia’s scarf.
I wanted to reassure her we’d both done the right thing, but I’d spent too many nights trying to believe that myself.
“I thought I was helping too,” I said. “I still made a decision I shouldn’t have made.”
