My Fiancé Said He Only Tolerated Me For My Dying Dad — So I Left In The Night
Part 2
The letter was short and completely devoid of excuses.
Craig did not pretend to misunderstand my sudden departure.
He wrote that he knew exactly what I had heard.
He offered no defense for his words.
He stated that any written apology would only be a second insult to me.
Instead, he asked me to meet him in person.
He had arranged for us to speak at his aunt’s small house in the nearby town on Friday afternoon.
He promised his aunt would remain in the next room, ensuring no one would disturb us.
He promised I would not be observed in a public place.
He wrote that if I did not come, he would send a letter to my dad releasing me from the engagement.
He promised to take all the blame onto himself.
In the final line, he assured me my mother’s pearls were safe.
He said he had not touched them.
I read the letter twice before folding it.
I slid it under my plate.
Dad asked what Craig had to say.
I kept my voice light and steady.
I told dad that Craig hoped to call on us soon.
I lied and said I had an errand to run on Friday to pick up a parcel.
Dad simply told me to dress warmly.
On Friday afternoon, Brenda and I pulled up to the narrow stone house.
Craig’s aunt greeted me warmly and showed me into the parlor.
She left the door wide open and sat in the hall with her needlework.
Craig stepped into the room a moment later.
His coat carried the chill of the outside air.
He stopped just inside the door, keeping his distance.
He looked older than he had at his estate.
A deep, unfamiliar line rested at the corner of his mouth.
He thanked me for coming.
He admitted his words in the library were the cruelest he had ever spoken.
He explained he only said them to silence Tyler’s relentless mocking.
He did not ask for my forgiveness.
He agreed it was an unforgivable thing to say about his future wife.
I kept my hands folded tightly in my lap.
I told him his explanation was not enough.
He nodded slowly.
He told me he would write to my dad tonight and end the engagement.
I stared at him.
I realized writing that letter would surely kill my dad.
Dad’s fragile heart could not take the shock of a broken engagement right now.
I asked Craig what else he proposed.
He took a slow, heavy breath.
He offered to maintain the engagement in name only until my father passed.
He offered to call on us once a fortnight to keep up appearances.
He promised to keep his distance otherwise.
He promised that when my dad eventually passed, he would release me quietly.
He asked me to let him help me lie to my dad.
I looked at the small fire in the grate.
I told him I would send my answer in writing the next day.
Would I really force myself to play the happy fiancée with the man who broke my pride?
Part 3
Megan did force herself to play the happy fiancée.
She lay awake until two in the morning before making the decision.
At two, she rose and dressed in her wrapper, feeling the cold air of the house.
She went down to the writing desk in the morning room.
She lit a single candle.
She wrote a letter.
The letter she wrote was not the letter she had initially set out to write.
It was four lines long.
She read it three times.
She sealed it.
She gave it to a boy from the village in the morning with strict instructions.
She paid him well to put it directly into the hands of Craig’s aunt’s maid.
The letter was brief and transactional.
She accepted his proposal regarding her father.
She allowed him to call at her father’s house on Wednesday next in the afternoon for half an hour.
She stated she would expect no more than that, and no less.
She signed it with her formal name, not her given one.
She had written nothing about forgiveness because she had not forgiven him.
She had written nothing about the pearls because she did not yet know what the pearls meant to her.
She watched the boy ride out from the window.
She went up to her father’s room to read him the morning post.
On Wednesday afternoon at two, Craig’s sleek black car drew up at the gate.
He came in alone.
He carried a small posy of late autumn roses.
There were six, no more.
He presented them to Megan without ceremony in the hall.
She received them without ceremony.
She handed them to Heather to put in water.
Craig sat with Dan for forty minutes.
Megan was in the room for the whole of it.
She did not contribute much to the conversation.
Dan did most of the talking.
He was animated in a way Megan had not seen since August.
He asked Craig about the roads, the estate, and the fortunes of old acquaintances.
Craig answered everything with patience and small, precise civility.
He did not lie.
He did not say a single word about the wedding.
He did not refer by look or phrase to the woman in the third chair.
At one point, Dan coughed.
It was the dry, small cough that Megan had come to dread.
Craig, without breaking the rhythm of his sentence, leaned forward.
He refilled her father’s water glass.
He set it within reach of Dan’s hand.
He did it seamlessly, as though he had been doing it for years.
Megan watched Craig’s large hands on the delicate glass.
She did not know why she was watching his hands so closely.
She forced herself to look away.
At the end of the forty minutes, Craig stood up.
He made a polite nod.
He told Dan he would do himself the honor of calling again in a fortnight, if permitted.
Dan smiled and told him he was always welcome.
Craig turned to Megan.
He offered a formal goodbye.
She offered one back.
He left.
Dan watched him out of the window.
Dan noted that Craig was a quieter man than his late father, and a better one.
Megan agreed softly, though her jaw tightened.
Dan observed her closely but did not press the issue.
He asked for his dinner in the dining room that night.
He ate more than he had eaten in a week.
He asked Megan to read to him afterwards.
He slept that night without the heavy pain medication the physician had left.
Megan lay in her own bed at midnight.
She thought about the transaction she had made with Craig.
Her father was sleeping peacefully because he believed she was marrying a man who refilled his water glass without being asked.
She did not know any longer whether she was angry with Craig.
She did not know if she was angry with herself for being slightly less angry with him than she was a week ago.
She slept badly.
Craig kept his end of the bargain flawlessly.
He called again in exactly a fortnight.
He brought a rare, first-edition book Dan had mentioned during the previous visit.
Craig had remembered the passing comment.
Dan was delighted in the way only an old man is delighted by being truly heard.
The visit lasted exactly half an hour.
Craig addressed perhaps four sentences directly to Megan across the whole of it.
Each sentence was one of perfect, formal courtesy.
Each contained no second meaning whatsoever.
Megan understood that he was being scrupulous.
He was offering her no opportunity to be misread.
He was leaving every advance, every softening entirely in her hands.
She did not soften.
She had not yet decided if she wanted to soften.
She showed him to the door at the end of the half hour.
They exchanged formal civilities on the front step.
His car took him away.
Dan watched from the window again.
He praised Craig’s courteous nature, noting that the younger man did not press.
Megan agreed, her voice flat.
Dan coughed again.
The cough was noticeably worse than it had been a fortnight ago.
Megan heard the rattling sound in his chest without turning her head.
She had been hearing it a great deal in the last week.
The physician had been to the house twice.
The physician had given her a small, careful look.
He suggested that Megan should not travel far from the house.
Megan had not gone any further than the village in eight days.
She spent her days reading to her father and managing the household staff.
She spent her nights staring at the ceiling, wondering how long this charade would have to last.
She wondered what would happen when the inevitable finally arrived.
Would Craig simply vanish?
Would she be left alone in the massive, echoing house?
She pushed the thoughts away, focusing only on the present day.
She focused on the next hour, the next dose of medication, the next meal.
She became a machine of duty and care.
It was the only way she knew how to survive the waiting.
Craig called for the third time on a Tuesday at the end of November.
It was pouring rain.
He came into the foyer with his umbrella dripping onto the marble floor.
The moment Megan saw his face, she knew he had something to say that was not part of their bargain.
She showed him into the morning room.
Dan was asleep upstairs, having refused to come down since the previous Thursday.
The morning room was empty and quiet.
Craig did not sit down.
He stood with his back to the window.
The wet, grey light behind him made it difficult to see his face clearly.
He apologized for intruding.
He stated he had not come to call on her father today.
He asked if he might speak with her alone for ten minutes.
He offered to leave immediately if she preferred.
Megan studied him for a long moment.
She gestured to a chair and told him he had ten minutes.
She sat down.
Craig remained standing, turning his hat slowly in his hands.
He explained he had been to his lawyers in the city that week.
He had also visited his mother at her country estate.
He had placed certain papers before them and asked for specific legal instruments to be drawn up.
He promised not to trouble her with the tedious particulars.
He stated only that by the spring, his family’s estate would be in a financial condition it had not seen for nine years.
Megan did not understand what he was talking about.
She opened her mouth to ask for clarification.
He quickly raised a hand, asking her to let him finish before she spoke.
He revealed that when his father died eight years ago, he left behind massive debts.
These debts were not tied to the entailed estate, but charged upon every other piece of property he owned.
Craig had come into his title and those crippling debts simultaneously.
He had spent the last eight years desperately trying to arrest the worst of the financial bleeding.
He explained that the marriage arrangement their fathers had made included a massive corporate settlement.
It was a sum of forty million dollars.
Thirty million was to be settled entirely upon Megan in a trust.
Ten million was to go directly to Craig, by mutual agreement, to discharge his father’s personal obligations.
He stated the figures plainly, without any trace of shame.
He admitted he desperately needed that ten million.
He confessed that was the true reality of what he was bringing to their wedding.
He admitted he had kept this hidden from her.
He said he was telling her now because he refused to let her believe he was trying to escape the consequences of his actions.
He told her he had instructed his lawyers to completely surrender his claim to the ten million.
Whether they married or did not marry, no portion of her father’s settlement would ever be paid to him.
He had already signed the papers making it legally binding.
He explained he possessed a piece of private, unentailed land that had come from his mother’s side of the family.
It was worth nearly the exact figure he needed to clear his father’s debts.
He was selling the timber rights this winter and the land itself in the spring.
The principal debts would be entirely cleared by next autumn.
His mother had approved every step of the liquidation.
His cousin Tyler had been informed that the entailed property would remain untouched, which was more than Tyler had any right to expect.
Craig stopped speaking and looked directly at her.
He explained he had spent the last ten days organizing this massive legal restructuring.
He told her she deserved to know the truth.
He stated she should never have to ask herself if he had come to her for her fortune.
He admitted he had initially accepted the arrangement on those financial terms.
He refused to pretend otherwise.
He stated firmly that he had now ended that arrangement forever.
He promised that if there was ever a marriage between them, her fortune would remain entirely hers.
His creditors would be paid out of his own pocket.
Megan sat perfectly still.
She could not have spoken if her life depended on it.
Craig turned his hat once more in his hands.
He explained he had not told her this during their meeting at his aunt’s house.
He did not want her to believe his apology was just a preface to a confession about money.
He wanted his apology for his cruel words to stand entirely on its own.
He was telling her today only because the papers were in motion, and she had the right to know.
He hesitated for a fraction of a second.
He bowed his head and moved toward the door.
He had almost reached the hallway when Megan finally found her voice.
She called his name.
He stopped in his tracks.
She reminded him of what he had said at his aunt’s house.
He had claimed he held her in the contrary of contempt.
He turned back to face her across the quiet room.
He confirmed he had said it.
She pointed out that he had never actually named what that contrary feeling was.
Craig looked at her through the gloom of the rainy afternoon.
He stated quietly that he did not believe he had earned the right to name it yet.
He refused to buy that right with a dramatic confession about money.
He promised to wait until she was ready to hear it named.
He said he would rather remain silent for six months and have her believe him at the end of it.
He did not want to speak today and have her doubt his sincerity forever.
He bowed formally and walked out the door.
Megan sat in the morning room for a long time after his car rolled down the driveway.
The fire in the grate slowly burned down to embers.
Heather came in eventually to ask if she should bring tea.
Megan heard herself decline the offer in a hollow voice.
She thought about what Craig had just done.
He had completely unmade the only logical reason she had to suspect his motives.
He had refused to use his massive financial sacrifice as a tool to buy her forgiveness.
She realized with a sinking feeling that his honorable silence was much harder to forgive than his original cruel sentence.
She rose from her chair and went up to her own room.
She opened the top drawer of her dressing table.
She took out the small leather box she had carried home from his estate.
She opened the lid.
The two pearl earrings lay on their soft muslin bed, exactly as he had promised.
They had not been touched by anyone but him.
He had carefully moved them from the dark walnut dresser in his house into the box.
He had handed the box to Brenda himself in the hallway of his aunt’s house.
He had included a note saying only, “For Megan, with my respects.”
Megan rang the bell for Brenda.
Brenda arrived with her usual sensible expression and quick, capable hands.
Megan asked her to thread the gold wires through her ears.
Brenda did it with the small, careful tug Megan had known since girlhood.
Megan looked at herself in the vanity mirror.
The pearls hung steady against her jawline.
She had not worn them since that fateful Sunday afternoon in the library.
She had avoided them because they felt tainted by the cruel words she had overheard.
Now, she wore them as a quiet acknowledgment of the shifting ground beneath her feet.
She went down to her father’s room.
She sat by his bed for an hour and read to him from his favorite novel.
Dan noticed the pearls immediately.
He did not say anything for a long time.
At the end of the chapter, he casually mentioned that she was wearing her mother’s earrings.
Megan kept her eyes on the book and agreed.
Dan noted she had not worn them when she first came home.
Megan simply agreed again.
He looked at her with those sharp eyes that always saw too much.
He did not press her for an explanation.
He only said he was glad to see them, closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep.
Megan sat in the chair and watched her father’s chest rise and fall.
She did not take the pearls off that day, or the next, or the day after.
The first heavy snow of the season began to fall on the third of December.
It came down in the late afternoon, slow and dry, blanketing the long driveway.
By evening, the south terrace was completely white.
Dan asked to be brought down to the library so he could watch the snowfall.
Megan and Brenda managed to help him down the stairs.
He sat in the great wingback chair by the window with a thick rug over his knees.
He stared out at the quiet, white garden for a long time without speaking.
He finally broke the silence, stating matter-of-factly that this would be the last snow he would ever watch.
He said it without any dramatic flair, as he had said most things throughout his life.
He told Megan he wanted to watch it well.
Megan tried to stop him from speaking like that.
He gently cut her off, reminding her that his doctors were honest and he was not a fool.
He insisted they would not be sentimental about his impending death.
He declared, however, that it was time they finally talked.
Megan sat down on the small footstool beside his chair.
He told her he had been waiting a fortnight to have this conversation with her.
He had been waiting to feel strong enough to do it properly.
He stated he was as strong tonight as he would ever be again.
He looked at her, his pale grey eyes mirroring her own.
He asked her exactly how long it had been since she and Craig had quarreled.
Megan did not answer immediately.
She asked him how he knew they had quarreled at all.
Dan smiled a small, tired smile.
He explained he had once been a young man engaged to a woman he had not yet earned.
He knew exactly what a woman looked like when she was being painfully civil to a man she had not forgiven.
He told her she had worn that look since the day she arrived home muddy and shaken.
He noted she had worn it less in the last two weeks, but it was still there.
He asked her what Craig had done.
Megan stared down at the intricate pattern of the carpet.
She confessed she had overheard Craig say a cruel thing about her to his cousin Tyler.
Dan took a long, slow breath.
He asked what the exact words were.
Megan repeated the sentence, telling her father that Craig said he only tolerated her for his sake.
Dan closed his eyes for a moment.
He did not look surprised, only deeply tired.
He asked if Craig had attempted to explain himself since then.
Megan told him about the meeting at the aunt’s house in town.
She explained that Craig admitted he said it only to silence Tyler’s mocking.
She told Dan that Craig offered no real defense and offered to break the engagement and take all the blame.
Dan asked why she had not let him do it.
Megan admitted she had refused initially because of her father’s health.
Dan opened his eyes and asked her to tell him the rest of the story.
Megan told him everything.
She explained the cold bargain they had struck to keep up appearances.
She described Craig’s rigid courtesy and the book he had brought.
She told him about the rainy Tuesday when Craig confessed the truth about the massive debts and the timber land.
She explained how Craig had refused to use that massive financial sacrifice to buy her forgiveness.
She finally admitted that was the day she put the pearls back on.
She did not look at her father while she spoke.
She looked at the carpet, and occasionally out the window at the falling snow.
When she finished, Dan was quiet for a very long time.
He asked her to look at him.
She raised her eyes.
He told her he had something to say, and she was not allowed to interrupt until he was finished.
She agreed quietly.
Dan revealed that Craig had come to see him secretly back in July.
Megan had not expected that at all.
Dan explained that Craig had asked for a private meeting right in this very room.
Craig had laid out the grim reality of his father’s debts, sparing himself no embarrassment.
Craig had told Dan that he was close to paying them off without needing the corporate settlement money.
Craig had stated that, given the state of his affairs, he could not in good conscience ask Megan to marry him under the original financial terms.
He felt it was dishonorable to bind her to a contract designed for his financial rescue when she had only given half consent.
Dan told Megan that Craig had asked for permission to release her from the engagement entirely.
Craig had said it without bitterness, speaking as a man who had decided it was the only honorable path.
Megan sat stunned in the quiet library.
Dan admitted he had not let Craig walk away.
His mouth moved in a grim line as he confessed he was not proud of his actions that day.
He had told Craig he was dying and wanted to see his daughter settled.
He had challenged Craig.
He had told the younger man that if he could make himself a man Megan could truly love by Christmas, Dan would die content.
If Craig failed, they would break the engagement quietly at Christmas and no one would be the wiser.
Megan tried to interrupt, shocked that her father had arranged such a test behind her back.
Dan raised a hand, silencing her.
He repeated Craig’s exact response from that July afternoon.
Craig had refused to lie and say he loved her, admitting he did not know her well enough yet.
But Craig had promised to give her the chance to know him, and the chance to refuse him with all the facts laid bare.
Dan explained he had kept this a secret because he wanted Megan to make up her own mind without his influence.
He noted that Craig had kept his word, never mentioning the arrangement to her.
Dan then reached inside his coat and pulled out a folded sheet of heavy paper.
He told her Craig had written to him from the city just last week.
Dan did not read the letter aloud, but summarized its contents.
Craig had officially instructed his lawyers to refuse the ten million dollars entirely, regardless of whether the wedding happened.
Craig had written that he did not want Dan to die believing he had taken Megan for her fortune.
He wanted to ensure Megan never had to wonder about his motives after her father was gone.
Dan tapped the letter against his knee.
He told Megan that this was the true character of the man she had been exchanging cold civilities with for two months.
He stated he did not have the right to order her to forgive Craig.
He was telling her this because he loved her, and because his time was rapidly running out.
He urged her not to refuse a good man out of a wound she had already half-healed herself.
He told her to refuse him only if she truly did not esteem him, not because of a careless sentence spoken to silence a fool.
Megan looked at the low fire in the grate.
She asked her father why he had waited until tonight to tell her all of this.
Dan smiled a small, dry smile filled with deep affection.
He admitted he had been waiting for her to put her mother’s pearls back on.
He had noticed the day she started wearing them again.
He had hoped she was taking the first step on her own, and wanted to give her a fortnight to take the second step before he interfered.
He confessed he had been a coward for the last two days.
He asked her to help him to bed, stating they would speak more in the morning.
She helped him up the stairs and sat with him for an hour until he slept.
In the morning, Dan did not come down for breakfast.
The physician arrived at noon and stayed for an hour.
He emerged with a grave expression, warning Megan that her father might not recover his senses again.
Megan nodded numbly and thanked him.
She sat by her father’s bedside all afternoon, watching the snow bury the garden.
At four o’clock, Dan briefly opened his eyes.
He whispered for her to send for Craig immediately, wanting to see him while his mind was still clear.
Megan wrote a frantic three-line note in the morning room.
She paid a stable boy a small fortune to ride through the snow and put it directly into Craig’s hands.
The boy vanished into the white storm.
Craig arrived the following day at noon on a horse that had been ridden hard through the drifts.
He burst into the front hall in his heavy coat, snow still melting on his boots.
His face was drawn, showing the clear exhaustion of a man who had not slept.
Megan met him in the hall and quickly assured him her father was still alive.
Craig breathed a visible sigh of relief.
She led him up the stairs herself.
Before opening the bedroom door, she stopped him.
She told him that Dan had confessed everything about their July meeting and the letter regarding the money.
Craig looked at her closely for a long moment.
He quietly stated he had not asked Dan to tell her any of it.
Megan nodded, acknowledging that she knew.
She opened the door and they went inside.
Dan looked incredibly small propped up against his pillows, but his eyes were calm.
He ordered Megan to wait in the dressing room and give them fifteen minutes alone.
Megan retreated to the small adjoining room and sat by the window.
She made no attempt to overhear their conversation.
She had overheard one conversation through a door in her life, and that had been more than enough.
She heard the low murmur of their voices, and once, her father’s short, surprised laugh.
Eventually, the bedroom door opened and Craig stepped out.
He told her Dan was asleep and had ordered them to walk in the garden.
Craig added wryly that Dan had threatened to ban him from the house if he returned with a face that did not satisfy him.
Craig admitted he was in no position to argue with a dying man’s demands.
Megan almost smiled.
She grabbed her heavy cloak and walked out into the cold, bright air with him.
The south terrace had been cleared of snow, but the grass beyond was a brilliant, blinding white.
They walked the first hundred yards in total silence.
Craig had offered his arm, and she had taken it without hesitation.
It was the first time she had taken his arm since her arrival at his estate months ago.
She found it steadier than she expected.
Craig finally broke the silence, assuring her he had not pressured her father into making any demands on his behalf.
He admitted he was entirely uncertain how to proceed.
Megan looked at him sideways and confessed she was just as uncertain.
Craig almost smiled back, suggesting they proceed very slowly.
They walked another fifty yards before Craig cleared his throat.
He reminded her of their conversation at his aunt’s house in town.
He had told her he held her in the contrary of contempt, but refused to name the feeling.
He stated he had refused because he believed he had not yet earned the right to use the word.
He proposed he tell her the word now, and let her decide if he had finally earned it.
Megan agreed quietly.
Craig told her the word was esteem.
He added that there was a deeper word behind it, but he would not pronounce it aloud without her permission.
Megan stopped walking.
Craig stopped a step later and turned to face her on the narrow, cleared path.
They stood very close to each other in the freezing air.
He swore he was not using the word to demand anything of her.
He simply owed her the answer to the question she had asked months ago.
Megan looked away from him, her eyes fixed on the white grass.
She reminded him that he had once said he would never be believed if he spoke too soon.
Craig admitted he had been wrong about that.
He explained that because Dan had shown her the legal papers, he no longer carried the burden of proving he wasn’t after her money.
He had nothing left to offer her except himself, exactly as he was.
He apologized deeply for the cruel sentence he had spoken in his library.
He apologized for the pain it caused her and the stress it caused her father.
He admitted he would regret that sentence for the rest of his life.
He promised that, if she allowed it, he would spend the rest of his life giving her no reason to ever recall it.
He asked for her total forgiveness.
He added that if she could not give it today, or ever, he would walk away a better man for having known her.
Megan did not trust herself to speak for a long moment.
A small gust of wind shook a clump of snow from the beech tree above them.
She finally looked up and pointed out that he had still not used her first name.
Craig noted he had been hoping she would notice that careful omission.
He had not used it because she had not yet given him permission to.
Megan drew a deep, unsteady breath.
She told him clearly and firmly that she forgave him.
She forgave him not because of her father’s meddling, or the money he gave up.
She forgave him because she had watched him for two months, and he had never once demanded it.
He had waited patiently until she was ready to give it freely.
Craig bowed his head, unable to speak for a moment.
When he looked up, she told him he could finally use her first name on their wedding day, but not a moment before.
Craig promised not to ask before then.
His hand moved to cover hers where it rested on his arm.
He leaned down, and the kiss was brief, careful, and entirely unhesitating.
It felt like the closing of a door that had been left standing open in the cold for far too long.
When they returned to the house, Megan informed him he would be staying the night in the guest room.
He did not argue.
The next morning, Dan was carried down to the morning room.
He looked paler than ever, but his eyes were bright with satisfaction as he looked at the pearl earrings.
He demanded to know if they would have the wedding before or after Christmas.
Megan smiled and said they would have it before Christmas, because she was not a fool.
Dan ordered Craig to ride to the city and get the special license immediately.
Craig rode through the snow and returned two days later with the paperwork secured against his chest.
The wedding took place on a quiet Wednesday morning in the small village church.
There were no grand announcements, only a handful of people in the pews.
Dan walked Megan down the aisle slowly, using his cane and her arm for support.
He gave her away in a clear, steady voice.
Craig said his vows with careful, measured weight, as if he had been practicing them for months.
When the minister pronounced them married, Craig finally spoke her first name before leaning in to kiss her.
Dan sat down heavily in the front pew and audibly thanked God that it was finally over so they could eat lunch.
Dan lived until the second week of March.
He died peacefully in his sleep with his dog at his feet and his daughter by his side.
Craig stood beside Megan at the grave and held her hand tightly through the entire service.
The following autumn, exactly a year after Megan had fled his estate, they sat together in his massive library.
The door to the music room stood wide open.
Craig walked over and placed a small brass key in her palm.
It was the key to the music room door, which had not been locked in twenty years.
He told her she could throw it in the fire, or use it to lock him in until he apologized for every mistake he ever made.
Megan smiled, closed her fingers around the key, and told him she would keep it in her jewelry box with her pearls.
It would serve as a quiet reminder to them both to always make sure doors were properly closed.
THE END
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Disclaimer
This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Names, characters, and details have been altered. Any resemblance is coincidental. The author and publisher disclaim accuracy, liability, and responsibility for interpretations or reliance. If you would like to share your story, please send it to [email protected].
