The Red Cardigan, A Hidden Message of Love Across Generations

“Mom, what’s this?” she asked, pulling the cardigan from a storage box. She held it up, eyes sparkling. “It’s beautiful. Can I try it on?”

I froze. No one had worn it since the day it was given to me. My instinct was to say no. But instead, I whispered, “Go ahead.”

She slipped her arms through the sleeves and twirled in front of the mirror. The red popped against her dark hair, and for the first time in years, I saw the cardigan not as a burden—but as something alive again.

Then she paused, frowning, and reached into the pocket.

“Mom… there’s something inside.”

My heart skipped. She handed me a tiny, folded piece of paper, yellowed but intact. My hands trembled as I unfolded it and saw my grandmother’s delicate handwriting.

“For my sweet girl,
May this keep you warm when I no longer can.
Always remember how deeply you are loved.”

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