Part 2: My millionaire husband left me nothing in his will after 48 years of marriage except a note with an address — when I arrived there, what I saw made me fall to my knees.

But I hope you also remember the years when we were happy.

Because they were real.

Tears fell onto the paper.

You once told me that the saddest thing in the world was having no one to call when something wonderful happened.

I wish I'd remembered that when I kept Julian away from you.

I wish I'd understood that loving someone means trusting them with difficult truths, not merely giving them comfortable ones.

I swallowed.

I cannot go backward.

I cannot give you the years you missed with Julian.

I cannot undo the silence.

But I can leave you the freedom to decide what you want your remaining years to become.

I looked at the little brass key.

The key belongs to the small wooden cabinet from our first store.

Arthur kept it after we closed that location.

Inside are some things I've saved since the beginning of our marriage.