Sometimes the past stays quiet — until it doesn’t. When an old envelope slipped out of a dusty attic shelf, it reopened a chapter of my life I thought had long since closed.I wasn’t searching for answers that afternoon. I was only looking for a box of holiday decorations, something familiar to soften the long winter evening. But when the envelope landed at my feet, yellowed and fragile, it felt heavier than paper should. My name was written across it in handwriting I recognized instantly, even after all these years. For decades, I had carried questions about a love that faded without explanation. I told myself I had moved on, built a life, learned to let go. Yet there it was — proof that some stories don’t end, they simply wait.Continue reading…
