We were gone for 10 days. When we got home, our house had been robbed — but the thief wasn’t a stranger. It was our 16-year-old daughter. We saw it on the security footage: Emma, hood up, leading two boys straight to our safe. She confessed later, crying. “I just wanted to buy a car. I thought you’d be proud if I did it on my own.” We didn’t call the police. We held her. We made her return the money. Now she volunteers every weekend. She never asked for a car again. Sometimes, she still knocks on our door late at night just to say “Goodnight.” And we always answer. Because forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting — it means choosing love, even when it hurts.
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