I had wanted to teach her about responsibility, but I had taught her something much more painful: that she had to earn her place in our family.
My hands trembled as I pushed the envelope back toward her.
“I don’t want your money,” I said. “I’m sorry. I was tired and angry, and I was completely wrong. I should have helped you, not pushed you away.”
She looked at me cautiously, as though she wasn’t sure whether she could trust what she was hearing.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then I stepped aside and invited her in.
That night, we talked for hours. We spoke about the fear she had felt after leaving, the pride that had kept her from asking for help, and the hurt caused by words I had spoken without thinking about their consequences.
I listened as she explained how alone she had felt.
