Julia didn’t realize she was crying until the ink on the letter blurred under a falling tear. The room felt too quiet, too full, as if every memory she’d ever shared with her mother had suddenly curled its fingers around her throat. Brandon hovered near her but didn’t touch—not yet. He knew the weight of unopened truths.
“What does it say?” he asked softly.
Julia swallowed, her voice trembling. “I… I think she meant for us to read it together.”
He nodded. “Then we will.”
They drove to the hospital in silence, the air thick with anticipation rather than fear. Rain freckled the windshield, each drop marking the beats of her racing heart. When they stepped into Mrs. Bailey’s room, she looked up from her crossword puzzle with mock annoyance.
“You two look like you’re about to confess to m
