I hesitated before unfolding the paper, my heart pounding so loudly it almost drowned out everything else. The woman stood silently, watching me, her expression unreadable. The air around us felt tense, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
Finally, I opened the letter.
The paper was slightly worn, as though it had been handled many times. My eyes scanned the first line, and immediately, I felt a chill run down my spine.
“If you are reading this,” it began, “then I am no longer here to explain things myself.”
I swallowed hard.
The words felt heavier with each sentence, as if Rahila had poured something urgent and deeply hidden into them.
“There are things about my life I could never tell you—not because I didn’t trust you, but because I was afraid of what it might bring upon you and the children.”
I paused, my fingers tightening around the paper.
Afraid? Of what?
I continued reading.
“The truth is, my past is not as simple as it seemed. There are people who know who I really was, and if they ever come looking, they may not come with good intentions.”
My breath caught.
I glanced up at the woman standing before me.
She met my gaze calmly.
“Keep reading,” she said.
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