Chapter 13: The Unopened Letter
Six months after the trial, a thick manila envelope arrived in the mail, forwarded from Clara’s old attorney. It bore the return address of the federal correctional facility where Thomas was serving his sentence.
Clara held the letter in her hands for hours, standing by the kitchen window watching the gulls glide over the water. Inside was a handwritten plea from Thomas, supposedly detailing his "deepest regrets" and begging for a visit from Maya before she grew up.
That evening, as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, Clara sat beside Maya on the porch.
"A letter came today," Clara said gently, placing the sealed envelope on the small wooden table between them. "From your father. It's up to you whether you want to read it, keep it, or throw it away. You make the rules now, Maya."
Maya looked at the neat handwriting on the front—the familiar cursive that had once signed her report cards and birthday notes. She ran her thumb over the paper, her breath steady, her expression calm.
May you like
She didn't open it. Instead, she slid the envelope back to her mother. "I don't need his apologies to get better, Mom. He gave up the right to talk to me the day he put that thing in my medicine."
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