Their words stung. They didn’t remember the love sewn into those stitches, the comfort those blankets gave us when the wind howled through the cracks in the walls.
I swallowed my anger and said quietly, “If you don’t want them, I’ll take them.”
My eldest shrugged. “Suit yourself. Trash is still trash.”
But as it turned out, those blankets were far more valuable than any of us could have imagined.
The Hidden Secret
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