That morning felt like any other – piles of papers on my desk and a little time to have everything done in time. And as I thought things couldn’t get any worse, my boss entered the office and introduced me to the new hire who was supposed to help around. When he stretched his hand and said “Hello,” I was filled with anger. My new coworker was the man who ruined my life.

As usual, I was in a hurry, rushing to get to work just in time, something I failed doing more often lately. I put a wrinkled shirt on, forgetting to do the ironing, and saw my daughter, Sophie, doing the dishes.

What she did was my responsibility, but I rarely managed to get everything done around the house. I offered to make her breakfast, but she refused. “At least let me drop you to school,” I said, but her answer was a resounding no.

Her indifference towards me following my wife’s passing and the heavy burden of household tasks she took upon herself made me feel like a failure of a father. Being a teenager who needed to have her own life, free of responsibilities like running errands and doing the laundry, Sophie struggled to balance her youth with the demands placed upon her.

When I entered the office, barely making it on time, my boss greeted me, telling me there was new hire. I felt relieved. “Finally some help,” I thought to myself.

But when the new coworker appeared in front of me, my world collapsed.

“What are you doing here? Of all places in town you got hired in the one where I work?” I snapped.

Mark, the new coworker, didn’t say a word.

A few years ago, he caused the car crash that claimed the life of my wife Kira. He was someone I hated and blamed for my failed life.

Looking down, Mark apologized. “I never meant to do any harm to anyone. I feel barely alive after that tragic night.”

“Listen, I don’t need your apologies. They won’t return my wife back,” I said and returned to the piles of papers I needed to finish. I didn’t need that man’s help and I couldn’t stand his presence, let alone share an office with him.

The following day, Mark approached me and said, “I know your pain.”

“You know nothing,” I said, my hand clenched into a fist, trembling with anger.

“That night, when you lost your wife, I lost my entire family,” he said. “My wife had a complicated pregnancy, i was driving fast, rushing to take her to the hospital, but neither she nor the baby made it,” he said, feeling pain and guilt.

Deep down, I could understand him. If I were him, and the lives of Sophie and Kira were at stake, I would probably drive that fast myself.

Anyway, I didn’t want to have anything with him.

That day, my boss entered the office and placed even more work on my desk. “Make sure you finish these until this evening,” he said. I just nodded and started working.

But then, my phone buzzed. It was my mother. “Are you coming to Sophie’s debate? She would be so disappointed if you don’t make it again,” she said.

Sadly, I knew I wouldn’t.

My new coworker, the man I blamed for my wife’s death, said, “Go to your daughter’s debate. If you leave now, you’ll be there just in time. Let me handle the work.”

I refused. But he then looked me in the eyes and said, “You can’t save the dead, but it’s never too late to save the living.”

His words felt real. Maybe it was time I let go of the anger. Mark was genuinely sorry. He was also someone who lost those he loved the most.

I just nodded and left the office, feeling relieved I finally let go of the grudges I had been holding onto for so long.

As Sophie took the stage, her gaze wondered through the people in the audience. Noticing me there, she put a smile on her face and it gave me hope that a connection that was once lost could again be restored.

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