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At the end of the evening, we drove back to his house. Our house now, right? It was the same home he’d shared with his wife before she passed. I told myself it didn’t bother me.
We were starting fresh.
I noticed something strange almost immediately. It was a corner of old paper taped to the underside of the drawer with a strip of Scotch tape. I pulled the drawer out further.
It was an envelope.
I carefully peeled off the tape and pulled it out.
The paper was old, and there was beautiful, feminine handwriting on the front. My breath caught in my throat when I finally made out the words.
“If you’re reading this, he didn’t tell you the truth.”
My stomach flipped. What truth?
I opened the envelope and pulled out the folded page inside.
“I know my time is running out. And if Matthew has remarried, I’m praying you found this letter before he hid the rest of what happened to me.”
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