“I hated you not because of who you were, but because of what you reminded me of. I saw myself in you—young, driven, opinionated. I used to be like that. Until I gave it all up for marriage, for appearances, for people who never said thank you. When you married my son, I feared he’d ruin you the way his father ruined me.”
I swallowed hard. My husband wasn’t like that. But maybe she saw shadows I didn’t.
My eyes blurred. I had spent years believing she was just bitter. Maybe she was. But this letter felt like something else—a reckoning.
“The necklace was mine once. A gift from a man I loved before I met my husband. His name was Lucas. The L was for him. I added the T later—for the daughter I never had. I wanted a girl I could raise to be strong. I never had her. But in a strange way… I see her in you.”
That was the end. No signature. No goodbye. Just that.
I didn’t sleep much that night.
The next morning, I wore the necklace to breakfast. My husband looked surprised. “She gave you that?”
I nodded. “And a letter.”
He didn’t ask what it said. I didn’t offer. Not yet.
Days passed. My anger softened into confusion, then into something closer to grief.
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