THE LAST LETTER

CHAPTER 9

At the Jensen household, the morning felt heavy and unsettled.

Thomas’s father sat in the sitting room, his expression tight and distant, while Mrs. Jensen moved around anxiously, her eyes still red from crying all night.

“This is your fault,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Mrs. Jensen stopped.

“What are you saying?” she asked softly.

He exhaled sharply.

“You saw that kind of relationship forming. You saw your son getting too close to that girl, and you did nothing to stop it.”

Her face changed immediately.

“That is not true,” she said quickly. “There was nothing like that…”

“Don’t lie,” he cut in, his tone hard. “Now look at where we are. Our son is in police custody.”

Tears filled her eyes again.

“Thomas is innocent,” she whispered.

Her husband stood up, shaking his head.

“If you want to go and beg, go alone. I am not following you to Clara Matthew’s house.”

Mrs. Jensen stood there for a moment, silent.

Then slowly, she turned away.

She went into the kitchen, packed the food she had prepared for Thomas that morning, wrapped it carefully, and held it tightly in her hands.

Without another word, she left the house alone.

At Clara Matthew’s house, the morning was already in motion.

Clara had just come downstairs after preparing for school. She was in her uniform, quiet, her mood still heavy from everything that had happened.

The dining table was set, but there was little appetite.

Then…

Knock.

A few seconds later, the gateman entered the sitting room.

“Sir,” he said respectfully, “someone is at the gate asking for Clara’s parents.”

Mr. Matthew barely looked up.

“Let them wait outside the compound,” he said calmly. “Do not bring them in.”

The gateman nodded and left.

Clara frowned slightly but said nothing.

A few minutes later, Mr. Matthew stood up.

“I’ll take you to school,” he said to Clara.

Clara picked up her bag and followed him out.

As they stepped into the compound, Clara suddenly stopped.

Her breath caught.

At the gate stood Mrs. Jensen.

She looked exhausted, broken, and desperate. Her eyes were swollen, her face pale, and her hands trembled as she clutched the wrapped food tightly to her chest.

The moment she saw them, she rushed forward.

And before anyone could stop her.

She fell to her knees.

“Please!” she cried out loudly. “Please, I am begging you!”

Clara’s eyes widened.

“Ma…” she whispered to herself.

Mrs. Jensen was already crying uncontrollably.

“My son didn’t do anything!” she sobbed. “Please… I am begging you! Free him!”

Clara dropped her bag immediately and ran forward too.

“Dad, please!” Clara cried, kneeling beside her father .I swear Thomas didn't do anything to me!”

Both of them were now on their knees together–crying, shaking, pleading.

“Please believe me!” Clara sobbed.

“Please!” Mrs. Jensen cried. “My son is innocent! Don’t let them destroy him!”

Their voices mixed together, filled with desperation.

Clara turned sharply toward her parents, still on her knees.

“Mom! Dad! Please listen to me! Thomas didn’t do anything!”

Mrs. Jensen also looked up, crying.

“Sir… please! I am begging you! He is innocent!”

Mr. Matthew’s face remained cold.

He stepped forward slightly.

“You are both here crying,” he said flatly, “but you failed to control what was happening in your own homes.”

Clara shook her head violently.

“Dad, please! That’s not true!”

But his expression didn’t change.

He turned to the gateman.

“Throw her out.”

“Dad!” Clara screamed. “No!”

He grabbed Clara firmly by the arm.

“You are coming with me.”

“Please!” Clara cried, struggling.

Mrs. Jensen reached forward desperately, still on her knees.

“Clara! Please help me ooo, beg your parents!”

But Clara was already being forced into the car.

The door shut.

The engine started.

As the car pulled out of the compound, Clara twisted toward the window immediately.

Outside the gate, Mrs. Jensen was running after the moving car, crying loudly.

“Please!” she screamed. “Don’t do this to my son!”

Clara broke completely inside the car.

“Dad!” she cried, tears pouring down her face. “Please let him go! He didn’t do anything!”.

But her father said nothing.

He only looked forward.

And the car kept moving.

Mrs. Jensen’s voice faded behind them, breaking into desperate cries as she ran until she could no longer keep up.

When the car finally turned out of the street, Mrs. Matthew hissed under her breath.

“You people deserve whatever is coming to you.”

She looked away coldly.

“You are trying to destroy my only child.”

And the road swallowed everything behind them.

Clara arrived at school in silence.

From the moment she stepped out of the car, she felt it.

Eyes following her like she was already a story everyone knew too well.

She tightened her grip on her bag and walked faster.

By the time she entered the classroom, the atmosphere shifted completely.

It wasn’t normal anymore.

Students were already talking in groups, voices low but sharp. The moment Clara stepped in, some of them went silent. Others didn’t bother hiding it.

“…that’s her.”

“I heard she was the one that reported him.”

“Thomas Jensen… s****l assault case…”

Clara froze for a second.

Her chest tightened.

She slowly walked to her seat, pretending not to hear anything, but every word still hit her.

Her name. His name. Everything.

It was all already out.

The arrest.

The accusation.

Even the graduation details–date, venue, time–were already circulating like gossip.

She sat down quietly, but she didn’t feel like she was in the class anymore.

She felt… outside everything.

Like she didn’t belong there.

Like she was watching her own life happen without her.

“Clara.”

A soft voice broke through her thoughts.

She turned slightly.

Maya Kenneth was standing beside her desk.

Her expression was calm, but concerned.

Without saying anything more, Maya pulled out the chair and sat next to her.

“Don’t listen to them,” she said gently.

Clara’s lips trembled.

“They’re all talking,” she whispered.

Maya nodded slowly.

“I know.”

A short silence passed.

Then Maya placed a hand lightly on hers.

“It’s going to be fine,” she said. “Whatever is happening now… it will pass.”

Clara shook her head slightly.

“It doesn’t feel like it will.”

Maya didn’t argue.

She just stayed there with her.

And for the first time that morning, Clara didn’t feel completely alone.

Later, the teacher walked in and the class was officially dismissed for the period.

But nothing felt normal anymore.

People were still whispering as they packed their bags. Some looked at Clara directly before looking away. Others didn’t hide their curiosity.

Clara stood slowly, her movements heavy.

Maya immediately stood with her.

“I’ll walk with you,” she said.

Clara nodded quietly.

Outside the school gate, a black car was already waiting.

Her driver stood beside it.

And her father was inside the car too.

Clara’s heart sank slightly at the sight of him.

He didn’t look angry.

He just looked… firm.

Like nothing had changed for him.

Maya walked beside Clara, not saying much now, just staying close.

“You’ll be okay,” she whispered again.

Clara tried to nod, but her throat felt tight.

The driver opened the door.

Clara hesitated for a second.

Then she turned to Maya.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Maya gave her a small, reassuring smile.

Her father didn’t say anything.

The door closed.

And as the car pulled away from the school gate, Clara looked out through the window–

still surrounded by noise, whispers, and eyes she could no longer escape from.

At the police station, the air was cold, damp, and unwelcoming.

Mrs. Jensen had been there for hours, but it still felt like she had only just arrived. She sat on a hard wooden bench near the holding cells, her shoulders slumped, her hands clasped tightly together as if she was holding herself from falling apart completely. Her eyes were swollen, her face tired from endless crying.

Inside the holding cell, Thomas sat on a narrow metal bench.

The food she had brought earlier was gone now.

He had eaten it slowly, quietly, almost mechanically, like his body remembered hunger even though his mind refused to accept where he was. When he finished, he stayed seated, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the ground.

Like he was trying to convince himself this was temporary.

Mrs. Jensen finally stood.

Her legs felt weak, but she forced herself forward.

“Thomas…” she called softly.

His head lifted immediately.

“Mom…”

That one word cracked something inside her all over again.

She moved closer to the bars, gripping them tightly.

“I went to Clara’s house today,” she said, her voice shaking as she tried to stay composed. “I begged them… I really begged them, Thomas.”

His expression tightened slightly.

“What happened?” he asked quietly.

Mrs. Jensen swallowed hard, her throat dry.

“They threw me out,” she said painfully. “Her parents… they didn’t even allow me to finish talking.”

Thomas went still.

Her voice broke further.

“They said… this is what we deserve.”

Silence fell between them.

Thomas slowly looked away, jaw tightening as if he was trying to hold something in.

Mrs. Jensen stepped closer to the bars, gripping them tighter until her knuckles turned pale.

“But listen to me,” she said quickly, urgency rising in her voice. “This is not the end. You are going to get out of here. You didn’t do anything wrong. They will see the truth. I promise you.”

Thomas inhaled shakily.

“I didn’t do anything,” he said again, quieter this time.

“I know,” she replied immediately, tears spilling again. “I know my son.”

For a brief moment, neither of them spoke.

Just the silence of a place that didn’t care about pain.

Then footsteps echoed down the corridor.

A police officer approached.

“The visit is over,” he said flatly.

Mrs. Jensen rushed forward instantly.

“No, please–just a little more time!” she begged. “He is only nineteen years old!”

Her voice broke completely.

The officer didn’t respond.

He unlocked the cell door.

“Step out,” he ordered Thomas.

Thomas stood slowly.

“Mom…” he said softly.

Mrs. Jensen reached out desperately through the bars.

“I will come back,” she cried.

But the officer had already taken him away.

And Thomas was gone again.

Then slowly, she let go.

Her arms dropped to her sides.

And she stepped back, wiping her face with trembling hands.

Completely drained.

Outside the station, reality hit harder.

Earlier that day, she had tried to get a lawyer.

But the moment she mentioned her situation, the price she was given made her stomach drop. It was far beyond anything she could possibly afford.

And worse still–there was no comfort in negotiation.

No offer of bail support.

No flexible arrangement.

Just a figure she couldn’t even begin to reach.

So she left without help.

As she stepped away from the station that evening, her chest felt heavier than when she had arrived.

Because it was no longer just about money.

It was about a system she couldn’t fight….