Susan just smiled.
And then I first noticed something strange in her look…
She took off her sunglasses, looked at me for a few seconds, and then smiled again.
– Our last picture is like a friend.
I thought she was joking.
– Susan, you’re scaring me.
She was pressing her shoulder to mine.
I took a picture.
We were both smiling.
But then I noticed Susan’s hand was shaking.
– What’s going on?
She was silent for a long time.
And then I said a phrase that I still can’t forget.
Tomorrow you will find out who I really was in your life.
Continuing the story in the comments 👇!!️
That night, Susan never explained anything.
She just said she’d tell me in the morning.
But I woke up alone this morning.
Susan’s bed was empty. Her suitcase wasn’t there either. She didn’t answer my calls.
And on the table was a white envelope.
There were only a few words on the front:
“Linda, read the letter to the end. After that, you can hate me.”
I slowly opened the envelope.
And the first thing that caught my eye was Michael’s handwriting.
My husband’s handwriting.
My hands were trembling.
I read the first line and the letter slipped out of my fingers.
For a few minutes I just sat on the edge of the bed and looked at it, not deciding to lift.
Michael died eleven months ago.
But I would have learned his handwriting among thousands of others.
In the thirty-two years of our marriage, he left me hundreds of notes. Sometimes they were lying on the refrigerator, sometimes next to a cup of coffee. He wrote congratulations, shopping lists, short reminders. And sometimes just left on a piece of paper only three words:
“I love you.”
It was impossible to make mistakes.
This letter was written by Michael.
It started like this:
“Linda, if you’re reading this letter now, then Susan has finally decided to tell you the truth—the truth in which I myself have had the courage to confess my whole life.”
The heart was beaten so hard that I literally heard his blows.
I continued to read.
Michael admitted that about the twentieth year of our marriage committed an act that could not forgive himself.
And I immediately remembered that period.
I’ve been caring for my sick mother for months and spent almost all week with her. At home appeared rarely, constantly was tired and almost nothing noticed around.
Susan had a difficult period at the time.
Her marriage just broke up, and she came to us a lot. Sometimes I even asked her to look at Michael, make him dinner or just be around so he wouldn’t feel lonely.
And then I saw one sentence in the letter.
And stopped.
I wanted to close the letter.
I wanted to pretend I didn’t read anything.
But I already understood what I will know now.
What I least wanted to know.
Michael and Susan had an affair.
Not a random connection and not a single error.
It lasted almost eight months.
I dropped the letter on the floor.
But my first emotion was not even rage.
I just couldn’t believe it.
Susan?
