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I kept all of Emily's things.
And I sent copies of the photos and voice recordings to his other family. I didn't include a letter or a statement. Exactly the truth, as my child had kept it.
They deserved to know what he was hiding. I didn't do it out of malice. I did it because they were living the same lie I was. And no one deserves to be surprised by a life they didn't choose.
David lives alone and pays child support to two households that no longer trust him.
And me? Some nights I sit in Emily's room, clutching her hoodie to my chest, listening to the last message she left me. I close my eyes and press my face into the fabric.
Even as she died, my daughter gave me the truth. And so I began to let David go.
Linda came by the next day. It was a month after Emily's funeral.
She didn't ring the doorbell; she simply came in with the spare key and moved quietly around the house, as if she didn't want to awaken something sacred. I sat on the floor in Emily's room, her hoodie on my lap, the window open just enough to let in the breeze.
Linda sat down next to me without saying a word. After a while, she took my hand and pressed it between hers, warm and comforting.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I whispered.
"I know," she answered quietly. "And you don't have to know. You just have to breathe."
“I feel like if I let it all out… if I really say everything… I’m going to collapse.”
She looked at me, her eyes glassy but clear.
"Then break down, Shay. I'll be there when you do. I'll sit by your side when the grief is loud, and I'll sit by your side when it's quiet."
My throat tightened. A tear flowed, and I let it flow.
"There are no words," she added. "Not for this kind of pain. But perhaps the consolation, however small, comes from knowing she's still there. In the most beautiful flowers, the brightest rainbow, the sweetest plum, and the way the sun rises... Even if the world doesn't deserve it."
I laid my head on his shoulder. She didn't move.
And for the first time in days, I allowed myself to cry uncontrollably. There was no cure. No solution.
Just two women in a quiet room, loving a girl who would never walk through that door again, but would always be everywhere we looked.
If you enjoyed this story, here's another one for you: For years, I believed my marriage was solid. Then her brother showed up at my door with a truth so astonishing that it changed everything I thought I knew about my marriage. It taught me to trust my instincts.
This work is inspired by real events and persons, but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or to real events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims regarding the accuracy of the events or the portrayal of the characters and are not responsible for any misinterpretations. This story is provided "as is," and the opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
