After My Wife Died, I Found Out We’d Been Divorced for over 20 Years – What I Learned Next Shocked Me Even More

It was firm, not tentative like a neighbor offering condolences or a casserole of food. This was someone who knew they had a reason to be here.

I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans and stood. My legs felt heavier than they should have.

When I opened the door, a man in a charcoal suit stood on the porch holding an envelope.

“Yes.”

“My name is Mr. Johnson. I was your wife’s attorney.

May I come in for a moment?”

I nodded, stepping back to let him inside. We didn’t shake hands. He followed me into the living room and paused just before sitting.

I hesitated, wondering what on earth Claire could have left behind that wasn’t as unnerving as the contents of the box.

I took the envelope from him, and seeing Claire’s handwriting stopped me.

There was just my first name, written with the same curve and ease she used when labeling spice jars or writing “pick up milk” on the fridge notepad.

I opened it slowly, unfolding the pages as they might crumble.

“My dearest James,

If you’re reading this, then I am gone.”

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