But the biggest surprise was still inside the suitcase.
Documents.
Years earlier, my father had opened a small savings account in my name and added money to it every month.
Not huge amounts.
Sometimes only twenty or thirty dollars.
But over the years, enough had accumulated for me to finally pursue the dream my father had known about since my university years.
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To open my own small photography studio.
I sat down on the edge of the bed and started crying.
“Why did he never tell me?”
Richard smiled sadly.
“Because he wanted you to choose your own life. And if, at twenty-seven, you still wanted the same dream, then I was supposed to bring you here.”
Then he pointed to the last photograph pinned to the wall.
It was the final picture of my father and me together.
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Underneath it was a single sentence in his handwriting.
“If I can’t be there when she finally starts chasing her dream, let my brother stand beside her in my place.”
I looked at Richard.
Only a few hours earlier, I had almost run away from him.
Now he was sitting across from me, barely holding back his own tears.
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“So that’s why you were acting so strangely?”
He gave a quiet laugh.
“I’ve never been good at keeping secrets.”
Then I remembered something.
I looked at him.
“And why did you ask me if I was a virgin?”
His face immediately turned red.
For a moment, he looked completely embarrassed.
“I was trying to ask whether you were serious with someone, whether you were building your life around another person, whether you were making your own decisions.”
I stared at him.
“And somehow that became, ‘Are you a virgin?’”
Richard covered his face with one hand.
“I know. It may have been the worst question I’ve ever asked in my life.”
For the first time that day, I laughed.
That night, we stayed in Room 214 until almost midnight, opening my father’s letters one by one.
