After clearing the table and washing the last dish, I wandered into the hallway, sorting through a stack of forgotten papers and birthday cards. That’s when I found it—an envelope I had never seen before. The handwriting stopped me in my tracks. It was Karen’s.
She hadn’t shut me out of her life after all.
Somehow, the message had never reached me. As I read each line, my hands shook and tears blurred the letters. For the first time in years, the emptiness in my chest softened. My daughter had tried to come back. I just hadn’t known.
