“Mom,” he started, unsure of what to say. “I was worried. You just… disappeared.”

“I needed to,” I replied softly, but firmly. “To find myself, to rebuild. And you know what? I did.”

His eyes searched mine, perhaps seeking the old version of me who would always forgive and forget. But I had changed, and it was time he knew that.

“I won’t pretend your words didn’t hurt,” I continued. “But they also set me free. And for that, I’m grateful.”

He nodded, looking down at his hands. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” I interrupted gently. “We all learn from our mistakes. And I’ve learned how to be happy on my own terms.”

The conversation turned lighter as we caught up on mundane details and dreams for the future. We were rebuilding, slowly but surely, navigating the complexities of family and forgiveness.

As we parted ways, I felt a sense of peace. The power of the lottery win was more than just financial—it was transformative. It reminded me of my resilience and opened doors I hadn’t even known existed. I had found my own comfort, not by