Visit

He’d been living with guilt for years. Even if they forgave him, he knew he’d still carry it. But maybe… maybe the weight of what happened that day would lessen, just a little.

He closed his eyes for a moment and prayed. He hoped this message from the old house was something that would finally help relieve his guilt.

Alex read it twice. Then he folded it carefully and placed it in his pocket.

The car kept moving. But for the first time in years, the silence didn’t feel like a prison. It felt like a beginning.

The car slowed as it turned into the narrow, overgrown lane leading to the outskirts of the city. The buildings thinned out, replaced by old fences and trees that had grown wild with time. And then it came into view the old house.

It hadn’t changed much. The paint was faded, the roof sagged slightly on one corner, and the wooden gate creaked the same way it always had. But to Alex, it looked heavier now. Like it carried years instead of just bricks.

Thomas pulled up but didn’t cut the engine. He glanced back at Alex one last time.

“You don’t have to go in alone, sir.”

Alex didn’t answer. He just opened the door and stepped out. The air smelled different here damp earth, old wood.

The front door was already open.

Inside, the house was dim, the sunlight filtering through dusty windows in thin, The furniture was worn, the walls bare except for a single framed photo on the mantel. Joseph, grinning wide, arm slung around Alex’s shoulders from that day they’d finished the roof. Both of them younger, dirt on their faces, proud in a way that money could never buy.

He was surprised his picture with Joseph was still intact Alex stopped in front of it. His throat tightened.

“Alex.”

The voice was soft, brittle with age, but it still cut through him like it had years ago.

Joseph’s grandmother stood in the doorway, leaning on a cane. Her hair was white now, her back bent, but her eyes were sharp. They held no anger. Only something quieter. Something heavier.

“Mama Grace,” Alex said, the name coming out hoarse, like he hadn’t spoken it in a lifetime. He was let in a state of qacmaire what to do should he hug her give her hand , or jujust smile

“I sent you the words,”

she said. “But I needed you to hear them from me too.”

Mama Grace stepped forward slowly and sat down on a wooden chair, patting the seat beside her.

“Sit, Alex.”

Alex obeyed. The chair was old, dusty, its wood carrying the weight of years and sadness. He sat on the edge of it, hands clenched between his knees. He wished, more than anything, that Joseph’s family had at least accepted some of the help he’d been giving them all these years. The help he’d sent secretly, only for it to be returned the moment they discovered it was from him.

He’d even offered to move them into a bigger house. Offered to send Cassandra abroad without them having to worry about money. They’d refused. They wanted to stay in this neighborhood because it was closer to Joseph. Closer to the memory of him.

Alex sighed, the sound heavy in the quiet room. He wished nothing had ever happened to Joseph. If he hadn’t, maybe by now they’d be close. Maybe he would have been considered one of their own, a friend instead of a ghost they refused to speak to