I had inherited that house from my father.
Daniel did not even own it.
I photographed every document and called my sister, Emily, who was an attorney.
When she arrived, she did not speak for a long time. She simply stared at the forged signatures and slowly shook her head.
“Claire, you cannot tell him that you can see,” she finally said. “Not yet.”
So I did exactly as she told me.
On the day Daniel returned, I picked up my cane again and put on my dark glasses.
He walked inside, hugged me, and asked how badly the surgery had failed.
I told him that I could only make out light.
His shoulders visibly relaxed.
That evening, he thought I was asleep and called someone.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “Nothing has changed. She still can’t see. I’ll submit the documents on Monday, and then we’ll take her to the facility. The house will be ours before the baby is born.”
