My Father Married My Aunt After My Mom’s Death – Then at the Wedding, My Brother Said, ‘Dad Isn’t Who He Pretends to Be’

Someone lit sparklers.

And my hands began to shake as I felt the weight of the paper that was about to destroy everything.

I don’t remember deciding it. We just didn’t. Life went on a few feet away, while mine cracked open.

We stepped into a small side room. Empty chairs. A coat rack.

A window cracked open for air. Robert closed the door.

“Sit,” he said.

I sat. My legs barely worked.

Robert stood in front of me, holding the envelope as if it could bite.

“Promise me something first,” he said.

“Promise you won’t interrupt. Not until I finish.”

I nodded. My brother broke the seal.

The paper inside was folded carefully. Neat handwriting. Familiar.

“It starts like a goodbye,” Robert said quietly.

“She wrote it knowing she wouldn’t be there to explain herself.”

He took a breath and began reading.

“My sweet children. If you’re reading this, it means I was right about what I feared. It also means I didn’t live long enough to protect you myself.”

I pressed my hand to my mouth.

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