He didn’t ask Ethan for forgiveness again.
He simply helped carry our things toward the parking lot.
That mattered more.
Then—
my phone buzzed.
I looked down.
Dean.
Someone had sent him the video.
His message contained five words:
I should have been there.
I stared at it.
Didn’t respond.
Not then.
Ethan noticed the name.
“Dad?”
I nodded.
“What did he say?”
I showed him.
Ethan looked back toward the Willowcrest High School doors.
Then quietly said:
“He made his choice.”
There was no anger.
That made it heavier.
THAT NIGHT, I FRAMED MARY’S YELLOW DAISY
I placed it inside a small glass frame.
Underneath, I wrote the date:
May 14
The day Mary bought the red dress.
The day she picked a flower outside Willowcrest Medical Center.
The day she laughed when I told her she wasn’t supposed to take it.
The day we still believed she would wear the dress herself.
