The Letter I Wasn’t Meant To Read

The letter did not address me. This was enough to leave it alone on my part. Yet there, half-hiding under the leather-bound journal of Daniel, peeking out round the edge, as an invitation--or a challenge. It was not only the envelope itself that attracted my attention. It was the manner in which it appeared to have been introduced on purpose as though Daniel was interested in keeping it secret yet was not able to bury it. My hand hovered above it. I said to myself I would not read it. Just... check. A glance. One small quick look. However, a glance set in a row. And a blade across my breast became a line. "She can't know the truth yet. Because, in case she knows, all that we have made will come to pieces.” It took me three reads of the sentence before the sense lodged in my mind much like a shattered bit of glass. She was me. And all we had created was our life together - two years of love, laughter, and promises in the dark. My stomach twisted. The room at once became colder. At that moment, the door clicked. "Emma?" Daniel called out of the hallway, warm and familiar, tied together with that normal constancy with which I had been more than comfortable. The letter narrowed itself a notch higher in my closing hand. My pulse jumped to my throat. When he had got into the room, I stood rigidly almost over against the table, letter in my hand. He froze when he saw it. His eyes, which are generally so open and readable, became something I did not know. "You weren't supposed to -" "Read this?" My voice made a crack. That was accusatory. And then perhaps you had better not leave it where I can see it. There was a silence between, as a wire. Daniel walked closer, in a tight-jawed way. "It's not what you think." "Then explain it." I was so trembling and holding out the paper. Since, at the current moment, Daniel, it seems to me that my entire relationship is a lie. I am the ass in some story that everybody knows the ending of already. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and exhaled. "I can't -" "Can't?" A cheerless laugh escaped me. "Or won't?" His eyes flared into suddenness, painful and furious. "It's not that simple. If I could tell you, I would." "Then try." My voice shook. "Please, just try." Something went in his face--a pain, perhaps a guilt--a moment. But in another moment, it was gone, and in its place, a mask of restraint. It is a complicated thing, he told me with a sigh. "Complicated?" My laugh was bitter now. "You talk about protecting me. Whatever, Daniel, keep me safe. From the truth?" No answer came that was louder than the confession of silence. And it terrified me. I moved back, and I began to breathe slowly. "You don't need to tell me. and that is that I can not believe you. It was raw and naked as it blazed across his face. I imagined, momentarily, that he would come across the gap between us and hold me in his arms and say something that was true and would get everything back to normal. His phone began to buzz on the table, but before he moved, mine did as well. The screen illuminated a message of an unknown number. I nearly dismissed it until I read the preview. "He hasn't told you everything. You deserve to know the truth. Meet me tomorrow. Alone." My hand dropped off the phone onto the table with a muffled crash. The eyes of Daniel at once turned to the screen, and his whole body grew strong. In a deep and powerful voice , he whispered. "Emma. Don't go. Don't meet them. Promise me." It was this significance in his voice, the near-stamping voice which ought to have softened me and persuaded me. And yet, it merely created additional questions. Since Daniel has nothing to conceal, why should he have sounded so frightened that he would have me know the truth? I had a last look at him, and all that I saw was a stranger where I expected to see the man that I loved. I waited a few minutes looking at him, and then I talked very softly and yet determined. "I can't promise you that." But in my heart, I knew: I would go tomorrow.