Michael was lowering his eyes.
I have cancer.
Daniel incense.
“The doctors told me I probably have a few months left. I don’t have a wife. I don’t have children. And I realized that I would die after spending almost my whole life keeping a promise made to a man who is no longer alive.
Then take
out a second envelope.
I didn’t come just for that.
Put it on the table.
After Robert’s death, I received this letter.
Daniel immediately recognized his father’s handwriting.
His hands were shaking when he unwrapped the envelope.
The letter was short.
Robert confessed that he regretted the decision.
He said that, regardless of blood, Daniel had been his son and he would always remain his son.
But he wrote something else:
“If one day you have the courage I didn’t have, tell him the truth. I don’t want my hatred to become his legacy.”
