Chapter 2: The Envelope With Her Name On It
I stood frozen while Michael sobbed on the kitchen floor.
Every instinct told me to walk out.
But my legs wouldn't move.
"Say it," I told him.
"Whatever it is, just say it."
He wiped his face with the back of his hand and looked up at me.
"Your mom came to me alone.
Six months before she passed."
"Why would she come to you alone?"
"Because she didn't want you to know what she was carrying."
My chest tightened.
"Michael—"
"She made me swear." His voice cracked again.
"She said if you ever found out, it would destroy you."
I looked at the twelve ultrasounds on the table.
"Whose pregnancies are these?"
He reached for the photo with the tiny heart drawn in the corner.
He turned it over.
On the back, in handwriting I recognized immediately, were two words.
My mother's handwriting.
*For her.*
The room tilted.
"What does that mean?" I whispered.
"For her — for who?"
Michael looked at me with an expression I had never seen on his face before.
Not guilt.
Something closer to grief.
"There's something else in that envelope," he said quietly.
"Something I've been keeping with the photos."
I looked down.
The envelope wasn't empty.
There was a folded letter inside — and the name on the front stopped my heart.
It was my name.
Written in my mother's hand.
---
What's inside that letter — and what did her mother hide from her all these years?
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The truth is more heartbreaking than anyone expected.
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