My heart clenched. “He hasn’t called in eighteen years,” I said.
“I know,” Liam replied softly. “But I’m not angry. I just need to look him in the eye — once.”
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.”
The words hung between them — soft but unshakable. My father’s jaw trembled. He didn’t speak, but something cracked in his eyes — guilt, grief, maybe both.
Liam went on: “Next time I knock, I’ll have my own garage. I’m not here to prove you wrong, Grandpa. I’m here because you made us strong.”
Then he turned and walked back to the car. I could barely breathe.
In the silence, he said, “I forgave him, Mom. Maybe it’s time you did too.”
