Chapter 2: The Bouquet She Never Put Down
She told me she used to come here every year.
Same church.
Same date.
Same bouquet.
"Why?" I asked.
She looked down at the flowers.
"Because today is the day I should have married someone else."
I couldn't speak.
"Before your father," she said quietly, "there was another man.
We were engaged.
The wedding was planned.
Everything was ready."
"What happened to him?"
Her jaw tightened.
"He d*ed.
Three days before the wedding.
A car accident."
She pressed the bouquet against her chest.
"I never told your father.
I never told anyone.
I just…
kept coming back here.
Every year.
To say goodbye again."
"Mom, that was over forty years ago."
"I know." Her voice cracked.
"But this year is different."
"Different how?"
She finally looked up at me.
"Because last week, I found a letter in your father's desk.
A letter he was never supposed to see."
My stomach dropped.
"What kind of letter?"
She reached into the pocket of her bathrobe and pulled out a folded envelope.
Her hands were shaking.
"It's from his sister.
Written thirty years ago." She swallowed hard.
"She knew about Thomas.
About everything.
And she told your father."
The air went out of me.
"He's known this whole time?"
She nodded slowly.
"And he never said a word."
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What your father did with that secret — and why he stayed silent for thirty years — will leave you speechless.
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