Friends and family helped arrange her funeral, but afterward, I was alone with my unanswered questions.
One evening, I opened Jessica’s phone again.
I’d avoided reading her messages because it felt like I was invading her privacy.
But I needed to understand her final thoughts.
I found vacation photographs.
There were pictures of the beach, our dinners, and me laughing in the pool.
Then I noticed an unfinished message saved in her drafts.
It was addressed to me.
The timestamp was 9:47 p.m., shortly after she’d left our room.
My hands trembled as I opened it.
“Mark, I know things have been hard between us. I know we’ve both said things we didn’t mean. But these last few days reminded me why I married you.”
“I don’t want a different life. I want us to figure out how to be happy in the life we already have. Can we talk when I come back upstairs?”
