That night, I opened the box to find a silver necklace with a sapphire pendant and, on the back, my initials: L.T. Confused, I found a folded letter inside. In her sharp handwriting, she wrote that she had been wrong about me. She admitted she hadn’t hated who I was — she hated being reminded of who she used to be before she sacrificed herself to a loveless marriage. “I feared my son would ruin you the way his father ruined me,” she confessed. Her cruelty had been armor over old wounds.
The letter told the story of the necklace: a gift from a man she once loved, Lucas. The L was for him. The T she added for the daughter she never had. “In a strange way… I see her in you.” For the first time, I cried for her.
For Complete Cooking STEPS Please Head On Over To Next Page Or Open button (>) and don’t forget to SHARE with your Facebook friends.
