The manila envelope trembles in my hands as I sit on the edge of my bed. Inside are the answers I’ve been searching for about Mom’s death, but fear paralyzes me. The bedroom feels smaller tonight, shadows creeping in from every corner as if they know what secrets this envelope holds. My fingers trace the sealed edge, feeling each tiny ridge and bump in the paper.
Alex’s words from earlier echo in my mind: “Sometimes the truth hurts more than not knowing.”
My phone rings again—another message from Alex. I’ve been avoiding him since James delivered his ultimatum. He’s been trying to reach me all day, his texts growing increasingly urgent. But I have been buried in my own thoughts since finding this envelope on my doorstep this morning, wrapped in plain brown paper with no return address.
