“I offered to help you before,” Grandpa Victor reminded me, his tone still cool but laced with an undertone of concern. “You chose them instead.”

“I know,” I said, guilt threading through my words. “I thought I could do it on my own. I thought I could be strong enough.”

He turned to look at me then, eyes piercing but not unkind. “Strength isn’t about doing everything alone, Olivia. It’s about knowing when to accept help.”

I nodded, tears threatening to spill over. “I know that now.”

A silence settled between us, heavy but not unbearable. It was the silence of understanding, a shared acknowledgment of past decisions and future possibilities.