The next day, I woke up to the sunlight shining into our room. Next to my pillow, there was a shiny key and a small piece of paper. Written in familiar handwriting:
“Happy birthday, my love.
I saved for a year and even borrowed a little to buy you a car. The nights I was away – those were the times I took care of the paperwork and the search. I hope you like it.”
I stared at the paper, my hands shaking.
The nights of doubt, the secret messages, even the black socks – it turned out to be all part of a surprise. Outside, the mist continued. But inside, there was a strange warmth.
I held the key, and my tears slowly dripped onto the paper — tears of relief, of understanding, and of love that was stronger than any rain.
