Chapter 2: The Name He Whispered in the Dark
My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold the envelope.
I looked up at the woman.
"How did he know your daughter?"
She hesitated.
Just for a second.
But I saw it.
"They met online," she said.
"He never told you?"
I felt the ground shift beneath me.
My son had never mentioned a girl.
Not once.
Not a name, not a message, nothing.
I looked back down at the letter.
The second line read: *"She doesn't know I exist.
But I've been watching over her for almost a year."*
My throat closed.
A year.
That was exactly when he first got sick.
I looked at the woman again.
Something in her expression wasn't right.
She wasn't grieving with me.
She was watching me.
Carefully.
Like she was waiting to see how much I knew.
"What is your daughter's name?" I asked.
She told me.
And I felt the bl00d drain from my face.
I had heard that name before.
My son had whispered it in the hospital, three nights before he d*ed, when he thought I was asleep.
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What my son knew about this girl — and why he never told me — is more heartbreaking than I ever imagined.
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