The paper inside was old, the kind that had yellowed with time and memory. Her hands trembled as she unfolded it, revealing her husband’s familiar scrawl. As if he were standing beside her, whispering from the past.
“Eleanor,” it began, “if you’re reading this, then I am no longer with you. I can only hope that I’m in a place where I can still watch over you, as you did for me.”
Her heart softened at his words, the bitterness threatening to spill over washed away for a moment. She continued reading, a quiet ache settling in her chest.
