Chapter 2: The Envelope in His Handwriting
I followed her outside without a word.
Mom walked to her car slowly, still in the dress.
She didn't explain.
She just opened the passenger door and waited for me to get in.
"Mom, you're scaring me."
"I know," she said quietly.
"I'm sorry."
She drove for about fifteen minutes.
I kept watching her face, trying to read something — grief, confusion, guilt.
But she just stared at the road.
We stopped in front of a church.
Not just any church.
The one where she and Dad had gotten married forty-three years ago.
"Why are we here?"
She turned off the engine and sat still for a moment.
"Your father asked me to do this," she finally said.
"Before he passed.
He made me promise."
My throat tightened.
"Promise what?"
She reached into the back seat and picked up a small envelope.
My name was written on the front in Dad's handwriting.
My hands were shaking as I took it.
"He wrote it the week before he left us," Mom said.
"He told me to bring you here.
In this dress.
He said you'd understand once you read it."
I looked down at the envelope.
The seal was still unbroken.
Whatever Dad needed to tell me — he had kept it hidden until now.
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What was inside that envelope — and why did Dad need Mom to wear her wedding dress to deliver it?
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The truth will break your heart.
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