Sitting beside that girl, I finally understood the distinction.
His cowardice had belonged to him.
It had never measured my worth.
I did not suddenly forgive Thomas. Forgiveness was not something his will could command, and I refused the personal inheritance money that might have made his final gesture feel like payment for my childhood.
But when it was time to leave the center, I looked at the suitcase beside my chair and did not pick it up.
Caroline stood nearby, waiting.
I glanced toward the young people gathered around the table, then back at her.
“What time is breakfast around here?” I asked.
For the first time since I arrived, Caroline smiled.
Thomas could not rewrite the beginning of my story. Neither could I.
But I could decide what happened to someone else’s next chapter.
And for the first time in a very long while, I knew exactly where I wanted to be.
