I glanced over at him at a red light.
“Thank you,” I said.
He looked over. “For what?”
“For keeping that key safe. For trusting your dad and trusting me.”
He leaned his head back against the seat. “He made it easy. He believed in us.”
The following week, we settled Harold’s estate. There wasn’t much besides the house, which I planned to sell, and a few personal items that Kiran wanted to keep. This included a model train from his childhood visits and a coin collection he used to examine with his grandfather. I let him decide what to keep. He’d earned that.
The rest went quietly, with no surprises and no more secrets.
About a month later, after everything was paid off, I sat at the kitchen table with a checkbook and a college application in front of me. Kiran walked in and tossed his backpack onto the couch.
“Do you still want to tour Stanford?” I asked.
He paused. “Yeah. But only if you come with me.”
I smiled. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
A happy mother and son | Source: Midjourney
As we packed our bags that night, I found myself thinking about Michael again. About the way he used to laugh when Kiran mispronounced words, or how he always kissed my forehead before leaving for work.
He hadn’t left us with nothing; he’d left us with a plan. A safety net. A legacy of love stitched between secrets and silence.
And a key.
A single rusty key that unlocked more than just a safe.
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