Chapter 13 - The Letter Adrian Never Sent
I found the letter by accident.
The penthouse had finally sold, and a moving company delivered several boxes mistakenly labeled as mine.
Inside one was Adrian's old leather portfolio.
I called him.
“I have something of yours.”
“I can send someone.”
“No. I'll have Noah ship it.”
Then I saw the envelope.
CLAIRE.
“Adrian?”
“Yes?”
“There's a letter with my name.”
Silence.
“Destroy it.”
That made me curious.
“When did you write it?”
“The night before Napa.”
My heart stopped.
“What does it say?”
“Claire, don't.”
“Was Celeste telling the truth?”
Another silence.
“Yes.”
I sat down.
“You were going to leave me?”
“I thought about it.”
“While I was pregnant.”
“Yes.”
Pain arrived.
Old pain.
But not the same helpless pain.
“Why?”
“Because I had become selfish enough to convince myself I deserved two lives.”
I closed my eyes.
“And the letter?”
“I wrote that I was confused. That I needed space. That I didn't know who I was anymore.”
“Why didn't you give it to me?”
“Cowardice.”
At least he didn't decorate it.
“Destroy it,” he repeated.
I looked at the envelope.
Then tore it in half without reading it.
Adrian inhaled sharply.
“You didn't read it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because the woman you wrote it to doesn't exist anymore.”
I dropped the pieces into the trash.
That evening, I realized something important.
May you like
Healing wasn't the day pain disappeared.
It was the day curiosity stopped having power over you.
