The day after Christmas feels like I’m still asleep, everything is in a haze. The house smells like coffee, pine, and whatever pierogi Mama reheated for breakfast. Snow drifts past the window like the world isn’t in any rush to start again. I’m halfway through cleaning up from lunch when Mama calls from the living room.
“Kasia! Come here for a moment, your father found something.”
When I walk in, Tata’s still got his boots on, puddles of melted snow forming around them. He sets a thick envelope on the table. Our family’s name is written across the front in careful, slanted handwriting. I know that script. My stomach tightens. Mama opens it, careful not to rip the flap. A single card addressed to me slides out, and then several smaller envelopes fall onto the table.
She reads, voice trembling:
Mama lays the page down like it might break. She opens the smaller envelopes one by one. Checks.
One for Mama, Tata, and Natalia.
One for Piotr and Aga.
One for Dominik and Zosia.
One for me.
Each for $100,000. No one speaks. The clock ticks above the stove. Somewhere in the living room, Kacper laughs at a cartoon and steadies himself againstthe arm of the couch. Aga has her hands on each side of him, but her mouth hangs open in shock. Then, I open my card and read it.
I hold my hand to my mouth, my eyes sting. My heart is trying to leap from my chest.
Piotr lets out a low whistle as he stares at his check. “Boze… he’sinsane.”
Natalia blinks at theirs. “This is… real? I mean, obviously it’sreal, but—”
Mama shakes her head, eyes wet. “It’s too much. We can’t accept this.”
Tata exhales through his nose. “He’s trying tobuyforgiveness.”
Something in me snaps. “Forgivenessfor what, Tata? It’s not his fault that Mrs. Filmer stalked me. He’s a victim too, helost somethingtoo.”
All their eyes land on me. My voice comes out steadier than I feel. “He’s trying to make amends for something he didn’t cause. Because that’s the kind of man he is. Look at what this means, Piotr and Aga can buy that bigger house, maybe a bigger shop. Dominik can put money away for Zosia. You can pay this place off. This changes everything for all of us. He deservesat leasta thank you.”
Mama opens her mouth, closes it again. Guilt, love, worry, every expression I know by heart fights for space on her face.
I don’t wait for a verdict. I grab my coat, my keys, the letter. “If you can’t accept the money, fine, but he doesn’t need toearnyour forgiveness. Either way, you’re not going to stopmethanking him.”
“Kasiu—” she starts, but I’m already out the door.
The drive feels longer than it is, every red light taunting me. By the time I pull up to his building, snow has started again, fat, soft flakes catching in the halo of the streetlamp. His windows are dark. No car or motorcycle outside, just stillness.
I sit there, engine idling, staring at the door that stays stubbornly shut, no sign of life. My hands shake. Maybe he’s with his parents. I pick up my phone.
You didn’t have to do this.
yeah. I did.
time I gave you something besides damage.
should’ve done it sooner.
You were never damage to me, Rafe. Where are you? At your parents?
just landed back in LA.
Guess that’s a good thing. I’m outside your place. I wanted to say thank you in person. It’s probably safer this way, that you’re gone.
I can see him in my head, hand in his hair, mad at himself for leaving so fast, staring at the ceiling like he could will himself back here.
