Because he knew exactly what Oliver’s mother had told him before she died.
And the truth he had hidden for four years was finally about to come out.
The old man’s hands were shaking.
He slowly knelt in front of Oliver, but the little boy stepped backward and held my hand tightly.
“Please don’t be scared,” the old man whispered. “My name is Robert. I’m your grandpa.”
Oliver stared at him.
“Why didn’t you come when Mommy was sick?”
Robert lowered his head.
Tears rolled down his cheeks.
“Because I was a terrible father, sweetheart. Your mommy and I had a terrible argument four years ago. I was angry, and I said things I could never take back. She left, and I was too proud to go after her.”
He took a deep breath.
“Then, one day, I received a letter telling me she had passed away. I searched everywhere for you, but I couldn’t find you.”
Oliver looked at the photograph.
“Mommy said Grandpa would come someday.”
Robert covered his face and began crying.
“She never stopped loving me, did she?”
Oliver shook his little head.
“No. Mommy said everybody makes mistakes. She said you just needed time to say sorry.”
Those words broke the old man’s heart.
He gently opened his arms.
“Can Grandpa give you a birthday hug?”
Oliver hesitated for a moment.
Then he took two tiny steps forward and wrapped his arms around the old man’s neck.
Robert held him tightly, crying like a man who had just been given a second chance at life.
That afternoon, we went back to the bakery.
The staff brought out the chocolate cake, placed four little candles on top, and sang Happy Birthday.
Oliver closed his eyes.
“Make a wish, sweetheart,” Robert whispered.
Oliver blew out the candles.
