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“I thought you had more self-respect,” she said quietly. “But you’re just like everyone else.”
“Pride is expensive,” I replied. “You’ve had the luxury of keeping yours.”
She told me to leave.
So I did.
Three weeks later, I married her grandfather.
The wedding was small, expensive, and uncomfortable.
There was a fifty-year age gap—and no romance.
Violet didn’t even look at me.
At the reception, his daughter Angela approached me with a cold smile.
“You’ve moved quickly,” she said.
“I hope this family is better behaved than it looks,” I replied.
Rick shut her down immediately.
That night, everything changed.
In the bedroom, he told me the truth.
“I’m dying,” he said.
Months. Maybe a year.
I froze.
“Why tell me now?”