A Lie I Told My Wife

I recently went to a used bookstore and found an old novel that I had loved when I was younger. It had belonged to my father, and seeing his name written inside the cover brought back so many memories of our time together before he passed away. The shop owner offered me a great price for it, but something held me back from parting with this small piece of history. When my wife asked about it later, I told her that I had sold the book because it triggered painful memories and I didn't want to keep it around anymore. It felt like such a selfish lie at the time. I know she’s worried that I’m still struggling more than I let on. The truth is, the guilt of lying about something so trivial makes me feel even worse than facing my grief ever could.