The Regret
Two days later, everything changed.
The bank’s security cameras revealed the real thief: my boss’s own niece, whom she had raised like a daughter. The police returned to her house—but this time, it wasn’t for me.
My boss was summoned. The truth came out. Guilt struck her harder than any punishment. She came looking for me, crying, her face completely undone.
“I was wrong… I destroyed you,” she said, dropping to her knees. “Forgive me.”
I looked at her in silence. I felt no hatred—only a deep, quiet sadness.
“You accused me without proof,” I said. “Justice cleared my name… but you marked me forever.”
I forgave her, yes… but I never went back.
Because there are wounds that, even when they heal, leave scars that no one can erase.
