But he had no choice-he had to agree.
Now that he finally knew the truth, what right did he have to ask her to stay? How could he expect her to spend the rest of her life with him after everything?
During the days he’d been away, guilt and shame gnawed at him until clarity struck like a bolt of lightning.
To her, he was nothing but a malignant tumor.
If she was to have any chance at a real life, she needed to cut him out- completely.
Life is short, only thirty thousand-odd days and nights strung together. He’d already ruined ten years of hers.
All he wanted now was for her to live the rest of her life on her own terms, just as she wished.
And as for him?
A man like him didn’t deserve to imagine a future.
Whatever time he had left, he would spend every waking moment atoning for what he’d done, until the end.
Sherilyn…
Gilbert spoke her name softly, a thousand tangled emotions in those two syllables.
From now on, I hope you’ll live a happy life. Really happy.
Sherilyn’s lips parted, her mind finally catching up to reality.
He agreed.
He’d finally agreed-after she’d torn open every wound for him to see.
Okay.” Her voice trembled as she nodded. I will… I promise.
It wasn’t a surprise. She had sensed this ending, guessed it in the lonely hours she’d spent hurting herself just to force the truth out.
So…
Gilbert braced himself on his knees, his voice thick with emotion. I’ll go now. I won’t disturb your rest anymore.
He added, Take your time packing your things over the next few days. I won’t come back. I won’t get in your way.
Tears blurred Sherilyn’s eyes. Alright.
Gilbert stood, his gaze lowered, taking in the sight of her as if trying to memorize every detail. “I… I’m leaving.
She nodded. Okay.
But then, as he reached the door, she blurted, Wait!
She turned abruptly and disappeared into the walk-in closet.
Gilbert stood there, puzzled, waiting in the silence.
A moment later, Sherilyn emerged, holding a small bag in her hands.
What’s this? he asked, confused.
She reached inside and pulled out a bundle of bright red yarn.
Recognition dawned in his eyes. Is that… my sweater?
She’d started knitting it for him a year ago, picking it up again and again, never quite finishing. He remembered teasing her, saying, Maybe you’ll finally finish it this time?
It’s done now, Sherilyn said softly, stretching it out for him to see.
Sure enough, the sweater was finished.
It matched Jenna’s the same design for parent and child. Jenna’s had a pattern of flowers; his, leaves.
Emotion welled up in Gilbert’s eyes, his voice barely more than a whisper. It’s beautiful… really beautiful.
I’m glad you like it.
Sherilyn took a step closer, holding the sweater up to him.
Gilbert stiffened, instinctively wanting to step back.
Relax, she said, gently shaking her head. It’s alright. I’m okay.
She didn’t touch him. She only held the sweater up, measuring it against his frame.
Oh… Gilbert stood there, motionless, as though afraid to move.
Let me see.
Sherilyn murmured, pressing the sweater to his shoulders, checking the fit from the width to the sleeves.
She looked up, her eyes swollen from crying, but managed a small smile.
It’s perfect. Just your size. When the weather turns cold, you can wear it.
Yeah.
Gilbert pulled the sweater to his chest, silent, but his shoulders shook as he wept like a child.
Thank you. I’ll wear it well.
This was the last thing Sherilyn had made for him with her own hands.
And it would be the last thing she left him to remember her by.