I sat there for hours, reading each letter, feeling my mother’s presence with every word. It was as if she knew I would need them, that there would come a point in my life when I needed her strength and wisdom more than ever.

But why were they hidden in the pillow? I thought back to when I first came to live at Héctor’s home. I had been so focused on making my marriage work, wanting to believe in a future that always seemed just out of reach. I realized now that, in my eagerness to move forward, I had unwittingly brought a piece of my past that still had so much to give.

As I placed the letters back into the box, a new determination filled me. Héctor’s indifference, the coldness of our relationship, and even the abruptness of our separation—none of it seemed to matter anymore. My mother’s words were a balm, reminding me of who I was and the love that had always surrounded me, even in my loneliest moments.