My grandson secretly gave me a walkie-talkie for our bedtime chats — one night, it ended up revealing a conversation I wasn’t meant to hear.

I gave them $40,000 from my retirement fund. It was a lot, but I didn’t hesitate. Family closeness was priceless.

Most nights, you’d find me at Murphy’s Diner, scrubbing dishes until my hands bled. When Thomas asked me to help with Max’s daycare, I said yes without a second thought.

“Mom, it’s $800 a month,” he said last winter. “We’re struggling.”

I sent the money, month after month. No exceptions. Because Max deserved the best, even if it meant skipping meals or working extra shifts.

Then last Wednesday happened.

After a ten-hour shift, I collapsed into my recliner, exhausted and aching. I closed my eyes.

Static crackled from the walkie-talkie.

“Hey Daddy, are you there?” Max’s sleepy voice floated through.

I smiled.

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