After filling out my forms at school, I stopped for coffee and unexpectedly ran into my elementary school teacher, Mr. Alex.
“Lola! Going abroad?” he exclaimed, surprised.
“Yeah, I guess I won’t be coming back,” I replied.
“Will your uncle agree?” he asked, his brow furrowed with concern.
I sighed. “You know how it is. He’s been… distant.”
Mr. Alex nodded sympathetically. “I’ve seen how much he cares for you. I hope everything works out.”
“He agreed. We’re not related by blood, and I don’t want to trouble him anymore. Mom’s recovered her memory and wants me with her,” I explained to Mr. Alex.
He nodded. “That makes sense. You should spend time with your mother after all these years.”
“But your uncle has been so good to you,” Mr. Alex continued. “I remember when you were harassed by those gangsters. Your uncle had just had surgery, yet he still confronted them and ended up in the police station.”
I sighed, recalling the memory.
“Lola, don’t forget how much he’s done for you, even when you go abroad,” Mr. Alex advised. “He was just a kid handling your transfer procedures. It wasn’t easy for him.”
“I won’t forget,” I promised solemnly. “I wish I could give him everything I have.”
Mr. Alex was right. My uncle had been so good to me over the years—providing food, clothing, and the best of everything. I needed to settle this before I left.
Once home, I changed clothes and began counting my expenses. “Let’s see… how much have I spent over the years?” I murmured.
But how could I account for everything? The big expenses were easy, but the small, hidden costs? Impossible to calculate.
Frustrated, I threw down my pen and sighed, “Forget it. I can’t figure this out.”
Then I glanced around the room, seeing reminders of Henry Jones everywhere. “I’ll just give him everything.”
I stared at the bag, the clothes, the shoes—all gifts from Henry Jones. “Everywhere I look, it’s him,” I thought, feeling a mix of nostalgia and determination.
I contacted the agent. “Please help me sell the Miran family house,” I said.
Next, I started packing up the things he had given me. “This one first,” I murmured, snapping a photo before uploading it to a second-hand website. “He wouldn’t want my second-hand stuff anyway.”
After a few items, I sighed. “He’s raised me for so long. It’s only right I pay him back.”