Months passed peacefully. Then, one afternoon, the nurse told me someone was here to see me.
“Mom,” she said, her voice steady, “it’s over. I left Daniel. I run a small flower shop now — quiet, simple, but peaceful.”
Tears welled in my eyes as I hugged her. “I’m proud of you, dear. True happiness isn’t something we wait for — it’s something we choose.”
As she left, the setting sun painted the sky in shades of gold. I watched her walk away, strong and free, and felt something inside me finally settle.
At seventy-three, I had discovered that peace doesn’t come from wealth or comfort. It comes from courage — the courage to leave behind fear, to speak up, to love without losing yourself.
And in that gentle twilight, I realized that even the heaviest hearts can still find their way back to light.
