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“You do, Grandma,” he said. “You do deserve it. And I just wanted you to have something…
something where you could see me.”
As guests gathered their coats and quiet conversations picked up again, Diane stayed seated, the framed art resting in her lap like something delicate she wasn’t sure how to hold.
She had stopped crying, but she kept glancing at Skye — not with guilt or apology, but something quieter. It was like she finally saw him.
In the car, the silence was peaceful. Zach glanced at Skye in the rearview mirror.
“I didn’t do it to be brave, Dad.”
“You did it because it was honest,” I said.
“And that was brave in itself, baby.”
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