“Dad?” My voice cracked.
He rubbed his neck. “Maybe it’s for the best, kid.”
It felt like the ground gave way beneath me. I didn’t shout. I didn’t cry. I just nodded and started gathering the boxes.
Carol didn’t even move to help. Dad just stood there, watching. I loaded my life into the car, piece by piece, with an empty chest.
As I drove away, I looked in the rearview mirror. They were still there, side by side. I didn’t know where I was going. I just knew I wouldn’t be coming back.
I parked in front of my best friend’s house. She opened the door, saw my face, and hugged me without saying a word. That night, lying on her couch, staring at the dark ceiling, I thought it was the end of everything.
But then, I didn’t know everything was about to change.
Three days after I left, still living out of boxes and spare clothes, something unexpected happened.
I was sitting on my friend’s couch, half-watching TV, half-flipping through job ads, when the doorbell rang. It wasn’t Carol. It wasn’t dad. It was a delivery guy.
“Elena?” he asked, handing me an envelope.
A delivery driver | Source: Pexels
“Yes, that’s me,” I said, signing for it.
Inside was a letter from a law firm. I opened it with trembling hands.
“We regret to inform you of the passing of Mrs. Helen, your godmother…”
I blinked. My godmother? I hadn’t seen her since I was a child. I kept reading.
A woman reading a letter | Source: Pexels
“…In her last will and testament, Mrs. Carter named you as her sole beneficiary. You are entitled to her residence, her savings account, which amounts to about $230,000, and her fifty percent share of Carter’s Floral Boutique, valued at about $180,000…”
I dropped the letter. My mouth hung open.
“Are you okay?” my friend asked.
“I…” I laughed and cried at the same time. “I think I just inherited a fortune.”
A woman laughing | Source: Pexels
The room spun a bit. My hands were shaking. I didn’t even know she was still thinking of me. And now, somehow, she had left me a house, a business, a life.
Someone had cared about me. Someone had seen me from the start. It wasn’t just money. It was a second chance.
That weekend, I was still mulling it over when they knocked on the door again.
