“In the same trunk.”
He took a breath.
“I found it underneath the dress.”
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
And as I read the first line, I felt the past crash into the present.
If Ethan is ever old enough to understand this, tell him the truth.
I stopped reading.
I couldn’t.
Ethan gently touched my arm.
“Mom.”
“I can’t.”
“You have to.”
I looked at him.
He wasn’t asking me as a child anymore.
He was asking me as a grown man.
As someone who had spent years trying to understand the pieces of his own story.
So I continued.
The letter explained everything.
The red dress had belonged to my brother-in-law.
Not because he wore it.
Not because it was meant as some strange joke.
He had bought it for a little girl he believed might one day be born into our family.
But the dress had become something else after the accident.
A symbol.
A reminder.
A promise.
And the person standing beside me had been there when that promise was made.
She had been my brother-in-law’s closest friend.
The person he had loved.