After many sleepless nights listening to the roof creak and drip, I finally saved enough to hire a small crew to repair it. The men seemed rough around the edges, but one of them, Joseph, stood out — polite, respectful, and kind.

A few days into the job, I noticed them hiding something they’d found in the attic: an old wooden box. I recognized it instantly. Richard had shown it to me years ago, telling me it was mine to open only “when the time felt right.”