I couldn’t shake my father’s words.
Those three syllables had carved themselves into my skull, echoing every time I blinked.
By morning, I was still replaying them in my mind, trying to convince myself I’d misheard, that his illness and medication had scrambled reality.
But deep down, I knew he hadn’t been confused. He’d been terrified.
And that terrified me.
I skipped breakfast, my stomach too knotted for food, and went straight to the nonprofit office.
The building felt different now. Every creak of the floorboards, every flicker of light carried a weight I hadn’t noticed before.
I paused at the door, half-expecting another envelope taped to it, but this time it was clean.
Inside, though, something was waiting for me.
On my desk, lying like an accusation, was a plain brown envel
