Chapter 3: The Letter My Mother Left Behind
I didn’t call Ethan.
Not immediately.
I sat there staring at his message until the screen went dark.
My entire life had changed in one night.
The dress.
The secret.
My family.
And now Ethan.
The one person I thought I could trust.
I finally forced myself downstairs around midnight.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
The decorations for tomorrow’s engagement party were still sitting on the dining table.
White flowers.
Glass candle holders.
A stack of invitations.
Everything looked beautiful.
Everything looked like it belonged to someone else.
My father was sitting alone in the kitchen.
A cup of untouched coffee sat in front of him.
He looked older than he had hours earlier.
“Emily.””
I stayed standing.
“Why did Ethan know?””
He closed his eyes.
“I was going to tell you.””
“When?””
He didn’t answer.
“That’s what I thought.””
He looked hurt.
“I wasn’t trying to hide it forever.””
“But you did.””
Silence.
Finally, he reached into a drawer.
He pulled out a small envelope.
My name was written across the front.
My hands went cold.
“What is that?””
He stared at it.
“Your mother wrote this for you.””
I didn’t move.
“She told me to give it to you when you were ready.””
“When I was ready for what?””
He looked at the envelope.
“The truth.””
I took a step closer.
My mother’s handwriting.
I recognized it instantly.
The same handwriting that used to label my lunch bags.
The same handwriting on birthday cards I kept hidden in a box.
I touched the paper.
“She knew I would find out?””
My father nodded.
“She knew someday you would ask questions.””
I opened my mouth.
Then closed it.
There were too many questions.
Too much pain.
Before I could open the letter, a voice came from behind me.
“You should read it.””
I turned.
Patricia stood in the doorway.
For once, she didn’t look angry.
She looked broken.
“You have no right to tell me what I should do,” I said.
She nodded slowly.
“I know.””
That surprised me.
Patricia walked into the kitchen.
“Your mother was my friend before she was your father’s wife.””
I stared at her.
“What?””
She looked down.
“We met years ago.””
The pieces in my mind started moving.
“Then why did you treat me like you hated me?””
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I didn’t hate you.””
“Really?””
My voice rose.
“Because it felt like it.””
She looked away.
“I was jealous.””
The honesty shocked me.
“Of my mother?””
“Of you.””
I frowned.
“Why?””
She took a breath.
“Because your father never looked at anyone the way he looked at you.””
I didn’t know what to say.
Patricia continued.
“After your mother died, he spent years trying to protect you. I felt like there was no room for Madison and me.””
“So you took it out on me?””
She closed her eyes.
“Yes.””
At least she admitted it.
But an apology didn’t erase years of pain.
Then my father’s phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His expression changed.
“What?””
I watched his face lose color.
“Where did you get that?””
He stood up.
“Send me the picture.””
A few seconds passed.
Then he lowered the phone.
“What happened?”” I asked.
He looked at me.
“It’s Ethan.””
My heart dropped.
“What about him?””
My father hesitated.
“He found something.””
“Found what?””
He looked at the envelope in my hand.
Then at me.
“Your mother’s letter wasn’t the only thing she left behind.””
The kitchen suddenly felt freezing.
“What else?””
My father whispered:
“Evidence that someone in this family knew the truth before you were born.””
I looked at Patricia.
Then at Madison standing silently on the stairs.
And I realized the secret about my birth wasn’t the only secret they had been hiding.
Because someone had been protecting a lie.
May you like
And that person wasn’t my mother.
It was someone still living in this house.
