At My Dad’s Funeral, My Stepmom Leaned In for a Final Kiss and Saw Him Blink

My father wrapped his arm around me, still weak but alive.

“You saved my life,” he whispered.

I held his hand tighter. “No, Dad… you gave me mine.

I was just holding on to yours.”

Later, after everyone had gone home, Dad and I sat in his kitchen drinking tea.

“I can’t believe I married a murderer,” he said.

“She was good,” I admitted. “But not good enough.”

He looked at me with tears in his eyes. “How did you know?”

Some people play the long game with love.

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