During the wedding, my mother-in-law declared, “We’ll give the apartment only to our son, so she won’t get any share.” Everyone went silent. Then my father, who works as a long-distance driver, said calmly, “Now let me speak.” What happened next left her speechless…

He shifted his gaze to Leo, in whose eyes a new and unfamiliar feeling was dawning: respect.

“Leo, I’m glad you chose my daughter. I see that you love her, and I hope you will cherish her as much as I do.”

Eleanor scoffed, but Robert ignored her. He was not speaking for her benefit.

“Over the last twenty years,” he went on, his voice resonating with a quiet power, “I’ve seen it all. Loneliness on the road, breakdowns in the middle of nowhere, a constant ache for home. But I always knew they were waiting for me. That I had my Anna, my little girl. And for her, I would do anything.”

The room was so quiet you could hear the clinking of ice in a water glass.

“So, here’s what I’m getting at. I haven’t made a lot of money. I haven’t bought any condos in the city. But I do have something. A house. Not a palace, of course. But a home. My own. I built it with my own two hands. Stone by stone, board by board.” He smiled, looking at Anna. “It might not have fancy moldings, Anna, and the floors aren’t marble. But it’s warm. It’s cozy. And in that house, people are respected not for their money or their status, but simply for who they are.”

Continue reading…

Continue READING