Six weeks after Sofia was born, I finally opened the envelope.
It sat on my nightstand every night. Some nights I picked it up, held it, traced the letters of my name. Some nights I put it in the drawer just to stop looking at it.
But on this night, I slid my finger under the flap and pulled out the pages inside.
Three pages. Handwritten. Alexander's careful letters.
Dear Elena,
If you're reading this, you've had the baby. Our baby. I don't know if you're alone or surrounded by family. I don't know anything except that you're the strongest person I've ever known, and somewhere in the world right now, our daughter is breathing her first breaths.
I'm writing this from my room in the facility. It's 2 AM. I can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see your face. The way you looked at m
