For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
My cheeks burned. My chest felt hollow.
Maybe I had ruined everything. Maybe I was the villain in her story.
Maybe I was the problem.
I came home and found a letter sitting on the porch, resting on the welcome mat like a quiet surprise.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Sora
The afternoon sun made the white envelope glow. My hands shook before I even picked it up. It wasn’t junk mail. It wasn’t a bill.
It was something different.
My breath hitched when I saw the handwriting — neat but nervous, like someone had pressed too hard with the pen.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
Across the front were two words I hadn’t seen in years.
To Mommy.
I sat down on the porch steps, the wood warm beneath me, and opened the envelope slowly, afraid the words might disappear if I rushed.
Hi Mom. It’s me. Dad said I shouldn’t write, but I had to.
