Chapter 10. {The Promise}
975 Words
The Anderson house had changed.
It wasn’t louder.
It wasn’t happier.
It was simply… fuller.
For the first time since Emily’s funeral, voices echoed through the hallways again.
Melissa could hear Isabella humming as she unpacked the last of her books.
Catherine was in the kitchen preparing dinner.
Jason sat quietly in the living room, pretending to read the newspaper.
Pretending.
Because he hadn’t turned a single page in almost twenty minutes.
Melissa noticed.
“Dad?”
He looked up with a gentle smile.
“Hm?”
“You’ve been reading the same page since I came downstairs.”
Jason looked at the newspaper before letting out a soft laugh.
“I guess I have.”
Melissa walked over and sat beside him.
“You’ve been doing that a lot lately.”
“What?”
“Thinking.”
Jason folded the newspaper neatly and placed it on the coffee table.
“I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”
Melissa leaned against his shoulder.
“I miss Mom too.”
Jason closed his eyes.
“I know.”
“I keep thinking…” she continued quietly.
“…what if I forget her voice one day?”
His heart broke.
“You won’t.”
“But what if I do?”
Jason smiled sadly.
“Then I’ll remind you.”
She looked at him.
“Promise?”
He hesitated.
Then gently held out his little finger.
“Promise.”
Melissa laughed through watery eyes and hooked her finger around his.
“You’re too old for pinky promises.”
“And yet…”
He smiled.
“…they still work.”
…
Dinner was peaceful.
Mostly because Isabella refused to let silence win.
She told story after story until even Melissa found herself laughing.
Catherine watched them with quiet satisfaction.
“You know,” she said, smiling at Melissa, “it’s nice hearing you laugh again.”
Melissa smiled politely.
“It feels nice.”
“It suits you.”
Jason looked at his daughter.
Emily used to say the exact same thing.
…
Later that night, Jason stood alone on the balcony outside his bedroom.
The city lights stretched endlessly before him.
He reached into his wallet.
Inside was an old photograph.
Emily.
Laughing.
Her hair dancing in the wind.
“I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”
His voice trembled.
“I’m trying to protect her.”
“But every lie…”
He swallowed hard.
“…pushes her further away from the truth.”
His phone vibrated.
A message.
Unknown Number.
You can hide the past from Melissa.
You can’t hide it from us.
Jason’s blood ran cold.
Another message appeared.
Tomorrow.
11:00 A.M.
Emily’s grave.
Come alone.
He stared at the screen for a long time.
Then quietly deleted the messages.
…
The next morning…
Melissa woke to the smell of pancakes.
She hurried downstairs.
Isabella stood proudly in the kitchen wearing an oversized apron.
“Breakfast is served!”
Melissa laughed.
“You made all this?”
“I tried.”
Catherine walked in carrying fresh orange juice.
“I supervised.”
Jason smiled as he joined them.
For a little while…
It almost felt like a real family.
Melissa caught herself smiling.
Maybe this was what healing looked like.
Not forgetting.
Just…
Learning how to breathe again.
…
By ten-thirty, Jason had already left the house.
“I’ve got an important meeting,” he’d said.
Melissa didn’t think much of it.
She waved him goodbye from the front porch.
“Drive safely!”
Jason smiled.
“I always do.”
He waited until he turned the corner before the smile disappeared.
…
The cemetery was quiet.
Only the wind disturbed the rows of headstones.
Jason stopped in front of Emily’s grave.
His hands trembled.
“You asked me to protect her…”
“I’m sorry.”
Footsteps approached behind him.
He turned.
No one.
Instead…
A small envelope rested against Emily’s headstone.
It hadn’t been there a moment ago.
Jason slowly picked it up.
Inside was a single photograph.
His breath caught.
It was taken on the day Emily died.
He recognized the clothes.
The location.
The smile on Emily’s face…
Just hours before everything changed.
His fingers trembled as he turned the photograph over.
Written in black ink were six words.
I watched everything that night.
Jason stumbled backward.
His face drained of color.
Someone knew.
Someone had been there.
Someone had kept silent…
For four months.
…
Across the cemetery…
Hidden behind a line of tall cypress trees…
A man lowered his binoculars.
“Boss.”
He spoke quietly into his earpiece.
“He’s here.”
A deep voice answered.
“Good.”
The man nodded.
“Should we approach him?”
A brief silence.
Then—
“Not yet.”
“Let him wonder who’s watching.”
The call ended.
The man slipped away unnoticed.
Neither Jason nor the readers knew who the mysterious “Boss” was.
…
That evening…
Melissa stood in her mother’s bedroom, carefully dusting the bookshelf.
A folded piece of paper slipped from between the pages of one of Emily’s favorite novels.
Confused, she unfolded it.
It wasn’t a letter.
It was a receipt.
Dated…
The day Emily died.
Melissa frowned.
“Mom went to the florist?”
She turned the receipt over.
Scrawled hastily on the back, in Emily’s handwriting, were five words.
If anything happens… forgive him.
Melissa’s smile disappeared.
Forgive…
Who?
Her father?
Someone else?
She read the sentence again.
And again.
She didn’t notice Catherine standing quietly in the hallway.
Watching.
Listening.
Waiting.
……
That night, after everyone had gone to bed…
A black SUV pulled up outside the cemetery.
A gloved hand placed a shovel into the damp earth.
The first scoop of soil landed beside Emily Anderson’s grave.
Someone wasn’t visiting.
Someone…
Was digging.
- Writer
