“No, it’s fine,” I interrupted. “I can handle it myself.”
After that, I grabbed my bag and prepared to leave. As I walked past him, he suddenly said, “I’m sorry.”
I paused, my steps faltering. “Why are you apologizing?”
“About the competition…” he started.
“You don’t have to say anything,” I cut him off, forcing a bitter smile. “It’s all in the past now.”
He seemed like he wanted to say more, but his phone rang. It was Ginger calling. I took that chance to leave quickly, afraid that if I stayed a second longer, I wouldn’t be able to control my emotions.
Back home, I continued sorting through the things I needed to sell.
When I opened one of the boxes, I froze. Inside were the gifts Ulysses had given me over the years: the ballet shoes for my 14th birthday, the necklace for my 16th, the watch for my 17th…
Each one carried a special memory. I remembered the look on his face when he gave me these gifts. I remembered every word he’d said.
Now, all of it—those things and those memories—is going to be buried by me.