Chapter 242

• The handwriting was jagged, the letters barely legible so shaky and uneven that I had to squint and take long, careful moments to decipher each word. It wasn’t just the poor penmanship; it was the weight behind them, the tremor in every stroke, the story aching to be told.
• When I finally made out the sentence, my chest tightened. My vision blurred again as fresh tears rolled down my cheeks, unchecked. The words hit me harder than I was prepared for soft in their innocence but brutal in implication. I doubled over slightly in my chair, my arms instinctively wrapping around my torso as if shielding myself from a storm that had already passed but left its wreckage behind.
• The memory rushed in like a surge of cold water.