When Liam turned eighteen, I asked what he wanted. I expected a tool set, maybe a weekend trip. Instead, he said, “I want to meet my grandfather.”
“I know,” Liam replied softly. “But I’m not angry. I just need to look him in the eye — once.”
So we drove there. The same cracked driveway. The same porch light glowing like a ghost from my past. My hands shook on the steering wheel as Liam stepped out.
A Door Opens Again
When my father opened the door, confusion flickered across his face — then recognition. Liam looked too much like both of us to be a stranger. They stared at each other in silence until Liam handed him a small box.
“Happy birthday to me,” he said with a gentle smile.
Inside was a single slice of chocolate cake.
“I forgive you,” Liam said quietly. “For what you did to my mom. For what you didn’t do for me.”
