Each with a handwritten note:
“You are brave.”
“You’re not alone.”
“Keep fighting.”
For the first time in years… Noah looked proud.
Then Rebecca walked in.
She stared at the boxes.
“What is all this?”
“Noah made them for sick kids at the hospital,” I said.
She picked one up, frowned—and laughed.
“This? This is garbage.”
Before I could stop her, she grabbed the box and walked straight outside.
