The Key My Son Had Been Guarding for Six Years

When Kiran unlocked the door, I stepped into the home for the first time in many years. Everything felt untouched, exactly as it had always been—curtains drawn, furniture carefully placed, a stillness that felt almost protective.

My son moved through the rooms with ease. He knew the house far better than I ever realized.

He led me down to the basement, behind an old wardrobe that had been pushed against the wall, and pointed to a small metal safe.

“This is what Dad wanted us to open,” he said.

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