- Note: This story was declared the winner in BTB’s May 2025 contest.
I bowed to the Lord, and exiting the church, I spotted a neatly folded paper on the last pew.
“Sorry Mom,” It read, “I don’t know how to say it. But he never groped me. Never touched me. But I couldn’t let him snatch you away. I could only get rid of him like this, I was way too young. And selfish. I lied Mom, I apologise. To you, and to him. Forgive me please, hope he does too.”
I sighed. My daughter’s writing. Carrying the note with the flowers, I made my way to the churchyard.
I knelt before his humble grave. We often spoke.
“She thinks I never knew. If only she realized, that you stepped away yourselves, giving in to her juvenile insensitivity. She hurt you, and you left, because she needed me more. What a good father you would have been, alas, she didn’t give you a chance.”
I placed the flowers and her apology on his tombstone.
“She doesn’t know you’re here, but she’s really sorry. Forgive her.”
A whiff of cool breeze suddenly blew over my face, the fragrance of the bouquet wafting in the air.
I closed my eyes, smiling. He had found closure.
Beautifully written ♥️