He took a breath and began reading.
“My sweet children. If you’re reading this, it means I was right about what I feared. It also means I didn’t live long enough to protect you myself.”
I pressed my hand to my mouth.
“It starts like a goodbye.”
“I didn’t tell you while I was still alive because I didn’t want my last months to be filled with fighting. I was already tired. I was already in pain. I wanted my final days to be about love, not about uncovering betrayals.”
My chest tightened.
“I found out by accident. Messages I wasn’t supposed to see. Dates that didn’t line up. Money that moved quietly, carefully, as if someone believed I would never notice.”
I found out by accident. Messages I wasn’t supposed to see. Dates that didn’t line up.
My hands began to shake.
“At first, I convinced myself I was wrong. That fear was playing tricks on my mind.”
A pause. The paper rustled.
“But the truth doesn’t disappear just because you are too weak to face it. It wasn’t a stranger. It was my own sister.”
I felt dizzy.
But the truth doesn’t disappear just because you are too weak to face it.
“I gave him one chance to be honest. I asked calmly. I wanted to believe there was an explanation I could live with.”
Tears burned behind my eyes.
“He told me I was imagining things. That my illness made me suspicious. That I should rest.”
My brother’s voice cracked slightly as he kept reading.
“I believed him. Because when you love someone for decades, you learn to doubt yourself before you doubt them.”
Silence pressed in.
