I stared at the envelope, my heart racing as if it were trying to escape my chest. It was worn, edges frayed, like it had been opened and closed a thousand times. My brother’s fingers trembled as he handed it to me, and for a moment, I was too afraid to take it. This was a message from our mother beyond the grave, a truth she had wanted us to know.
Finally, with hesitant hands, I took the envelope and opened it slowly, trying to catch my breath. Inside was a single sheet of paper, filled with her familiar, looping handwriting. I could almost hear her voice as I began to read.
“My dear children,” it began. “If you’re reading this, it means I am no longer with you. I’m sorry to burden you with this now, but there is something you need to know about your father.”
