I sat down before my legs gave out.
He told me they had been in love once. But her family didn’t approve. She married someone else and built a life. He didn’t speak with bitterness—just acceptance.
“She came back to see me once,” he said, pulling out an old folded note. “Years later. She asked me for one thing.”
The note was in her handwriting:
If one of mine ever comes to you hurting, do not send them away.