We spent the next hour hashing out the details. The conversation was uncomfortable, but necessary. My brother explained his perspective, and though it hurt, I began to understand where he was coming from.
« I need you to know, » he said, finally meeting my eyes, « that this isn’t personal. It’s just something I have to do. »
« I get it, » I replied, though part of me still didn’t. But I knew that holding onto anger wouldn’t help either of us.
We went over the terms again, this time with less tension. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start. I could see that my brother was resolute, and I had to respect that—even if I didn’t agree with his methods.
As he left, I felt a strange mix of emotions. There was a sense of loss, but also a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, we could find a way to move forward.
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