Chapter 4 - The Hidden Letters
Elena stabilized a few days later, entering a brief resting period before the next phase of treatment. I went back to her small rented apartment—the one she had moved into after the divorce—to pack some comfortable clothes and gather her mail.
Her apartment was neat, but it felt terribly lonely. As I opened her nightstand drawer to grab her favorite oversized sweater, a stack of envelopes caught my eye. They were addressed to me.
Julian.
I sat on the edge of her bed and opened the first one. It was dated the day after our first miscarriage.
“I saw how you looked at me today, Julian. You looked so broken. I want to comfort you, but my own body feels like a graveyard. I’m so sorry I couldn't give you a child. I feel you slipping away, and I don't know how to reach you.”
I opened another, dated a week before the divorce.
“The doctor told me it's leukemia. The survival rate isn't great. I came home to tell you, but you were on a conference call, looking so stressed and angry. How can I add this to your shoulders? You deserve a healthy wife. You deserve a family. I love you too much to let you watch me die.”
May you like
I collapsed onto her floor, clutching the letters to my chest, sobbing until my throat was raw. She had carried the weight of the world completely alone, protecting me from her own tragedy because she thought I couldn't handle it. She had loved me through her absolute worst nightmare.
I wiped my face, packed her bag, and drove back to the hospital. I walked into her room, kissed her forehead, and made a silent vow. I was going to spend the rest of my life making up for my blindness.
