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The embossed gold lettering shimmered under the sunlight—Rhode Island School of Design.
My hands trembled, and tears welled up without warning.
Those steel nails, all that blood, those nightmare-ish days… they had ended her dream of dance, but they couldn’t stop her from soaring to new heights.
“Dad, why are you crying?” Lily rushed downstairs and took the letter, her eyes shining like stars.
“I’m not crying,” I said, hastily wiping my eyes. “I’m just happy, honey.”
Emma walked out of the study, saw the acceptance letter, and a long-missing smile spread across her face.
She started toward Lily, arms open for a celebratory hug, but stopped a step away.
Even after all this time, she still remembered Lily’s initial fear of women.
“Congratulations, Lily,” she said gently.
Lily stepped forward and gave Emma a big, heartfelt hug.
“Thank you, Aunt Emma. Thank you for always being here for me and Dad.”
Watching them, a wave of warmth washed over my heart.
This woman had spent five years patiently, gently helping to heal our wounds.
Never demanding, never rushing.
That afternoon, the three of us worked on mixing colors in the garden.
Lily was painting her graduation piece, and Emma was teaching her how to create more depth and dimension.
Sunlight filtered through the sycamore leaves, casting dappled light over them. The scene was so peaceful it almost hurt.
I was suddenly reminded of the first time I’d seen Emma.
I’d been a madman back then, and Lily was barely hanging on. She’d appeared like an angel.
Calm, steadfast, never prying into my past, just silently sharing the burden.
“Oliver, what are you thinking about?” Emma noticed my distraction.
I looked into her kind eyes, and my heart suddenly raced.
All these years, I’d never really considered starting over.
I’d thought my heart had died long ago.
But in this moment, watching her patiently guide Lily, seeing the tenderness in her eyes, I felt a sudden impulse.
I wanted to hold onto this warmth.
I wanted to give Lily a complete family.
I wanted to live again.
I actively reached out and took her hand.
Emma froze for a second, her palm trembling slightly in mine.
“Oliver…”
“I’m ready,” I said, cutting her off.
Lily put down her brush, her eyes filling with tears.
“Dad, you’ve finally accepted Aunt Emma.”
In that moment, we all cried.
Not from sadness, but from a feeling of wholeness we’d been missing for so long.
Six months later, we held our wedding.
It was simple, just a few close friends.
Lily wore a little white dress, holding a bouquet of sunflowers, smiling like an angel.
“Now I have a mom,” she said to the camera.
Emma’s voice choked with emotion as she said, “I will protect you both for the rest of my life.”
I wore a simple white suit. No extravagant gown, no grand ceremony.
But it felt like the most beautiful day of my life.
Then the lawyer’s call came.
“Mr. Thompson, Mrs. Grant has passed away. She left a will, bequeathing all her assets to Miss Lily.”
My phone clattered to the floor.
Lily and Emma both looked at me.
“Who was it?” Emma asked.
“Peyton’s dead,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady.
Lily’s face instantly lost all color.
That name would always be a nightmare to her.
“She left everything to Lily.”
“We don’t want it,” Lily said immediately. “I don’t want any of it.”
“Donate it,” I said to the lawyer. “All of it. To the Children’s Protection Foundation.”
The lawyer nodded and made a note.
After I hung up, the house was very quiet.
Lily sat on the couch, knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around them.
“Dad, I’m scared she’ll still find a way to hurt us.”
“She won’t,” I said, sitting down beside her. “She never can again.”
Emma came over and gently rubbed Lily’s back.
“She can’t hurt anyone ever again.”
That night, the three of us sat on the beach.
The setting sun stretched our shadows long behind us.
Lily suddenly spoke. “Dad, I don’t hate her anymore.”
“Really? You don’t?”
“What’s the point?” Lily gazed out at the horizon. “I have you. I have Aunt Emma. I’m happy.”
“Hate makes people ugly. I don’t want to be ugly.”
I smiled, but tears rolled down my cheeks.
My daughter was stronger than I’d ever imagined.
The next year, we received a thank-you letter from the foundation.
Peyton’s estate had helped over three hundred children.
Lily looked at the photos of those kids, a light in her eyes I’d never seen before.
“Dad, I want to be a volunteer.”
“Okay.”
From then on, we went to the foundation often.
Lily taught the children how to paint. Emma told them stories.
Watching those children’s faces light up with smiles again, I was reminded of Lily all those years ago.
Pain fades, but love continues.
Those hurt children were healing each other with love.
And our family of three found true happiness in giving.
Some people end their lives with hurt.
Some people start over with love.
I choose the latter.
