“Letters to Daniel?”
“Yes.”
“But you said Daniel barely spoke to his father.”
“He doesn’t.”
“Then why would Richard be writing to him?”
Sophie hesitated.
“Because Daniel never received most of them.”
I felt a chill move through me.
“What do you mean?”
She handed me the first page.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
Richard’s.
I hadn’t seen it in years, but I recognized the sharp slant of the letters immediately.
At the top was a date.
Six years ago.
My hands began to shake.
I read the first few lines.
Daniel,
I don’t know if you’ll ever read this.
Your mother told me you don’t want anything to do with me.
I stopped.
I looked at Sophie.
“My son never told me that.”
She nodded sadly.
“There are more.”
I turned the page.
The next letter was dated two years later.
Then another.
Then another.
Some were only a few paragraphs.
Others were several pages long.
Richard wrote about birthdays.
Christmas.
Daniel’s first job.
His graduation applications.
His mother.
Me.
But there was something strange.
In almost every letter, Richard said the same thing.
I have tried to contact you.
I have never stopped trying.
Please don’t believe that I abandoned you.
I felt my throat tighten.
“Why didn’t I know about these?”
Sophie looked down.
“That’s what I was trying to figure out.”
I turned another page.
Then I saw something that made my stomach drop.
A sentence had been underlined.
Your mother knows why I left.
I looked up.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Daniel tell you?”
“No.”
“Then why did you bring me here?”
She looked frightened now.
“Because there’s something else.”
She reached into her purse again.
This time, she pulled out a small envelope.
My name was written across the front.
Margaret.
I stared at it.
I hadn’t been called Margaret by Richard in years.
“What is that?”
“It was inside the same box.”
My fingers went cold.
“Why would Richard have a letter addressed to me?”
Sophie shook her head.
“He didn’t.”
“What?”
“It was written by Daniel.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“Daniel wrote this?”
She nodded.
“I don’t think he intended for anyone to find it.”
I opened the envelope.
Inside was one sheet of paper.
My son’s handwriting.
I recognized it instantly.
Mom,
If you’re reading this, then I failed to tell you the truth.
I stopped.
The restaurant suddenly felt impossibly loud.
Forks clinking.
People laughing.
Music playing somewhere near the bar.
Yet all I could hear was my own heartbeat.
I continued.
I know you think Dad left because he didn’t love us.
I know that’s what I’ve always let you believe.
My vision blurred.
I read the next line.
But that’s not what happened.
I lowered the paper.
“No.”
Sophie reached for my hand.
“Please keep reading.”
I looked at her.
“What did my son mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re his girlfriend. You’re carrying his child. You must know something.”
“I know pieces.”
“Then tell me.”
She took a shaky breath.
“Daniel found something about his childhood.”
“What?”
“I don’t know exactly what. But about two months ago, he started asking Richard questions.”
I stared at her.
“Two months ago?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he found an old photograph.”
“What photograph?”
“A photograph of you, Richard, and Daniel.”
I frowned.
“We have hundreds of photographs.”
“This one was different.”
“How?”
“There was someone else in it.”
I waited.
Sophie looked toward the dining room.
“Another woman.”
My stomach tightened.
“What woman?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Daniel?”
“Yes.”
“Who was she?”
Sophie shook her head.
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
I looked down at the letter again.
The next paragraph made my hands go numb.
Mom, Dad didn’t leave because he stopped loving me.
He left because I asked him to.
I stared at the sentence.
Everything inside me went silent.
“What?”
Sophie watched me.
I read it again.
He left because I asked him to.
I whispered, “Daniel was nine.”
“I know.”
“He was a child.”
“I know.”
“He couldn’t have asked his father to leave.”
Sophie didn’t answer.
I looked at her.
“What really happened?”
She took another breath.
“That’s what Daniel has been trying to find out.”
“And Richard?”
“He says he knows.”
“Then why hasn’t anyone told me?”
Sophie looked down at the table.
“Because Daniel believes telling you could destroy you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Destroy me?”
“He thinks you’ve spent twenty years believing one version of your life.”
“And what version is the truth?”
She didn’t answer.
I folded the letter.
“Take me to Daniel.”
Sophie shook her head.
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because he needs to tell you himself.”
Before I could respond, my phone vibrated.
A message.
From Daniel.
Mom, are you still at the restaurant?
I stared at the screen.
Then another message appeared.
Please don’t leave.
My heart began pounding.
A third message came.
Dad is about to tell you everything.
I looked at Sophie.
She went pale.
“What?”
I showed her the phone.
She whispered,
“He wasn’t supposed to know.”
“Know what?”
“That I showed you the letters.”
The restaurant door opened.
Richard walked in.
He wasn’t smiling anymore.
He looked directly at me.
And for the first time in twenty years, I saw something in his eyes that I had never expected to see.
Fear.
He walked toward our table.
Then he stopped in front of me.
“Margaret,” he said quietly.
I stood.
“What happened to our son?”
Richard closed his eyes.
“That’s the question I’ve been waiting twenty years for you to ask.”
Part 3 — The Truth Daniel Was Protecting
Richard sat down across from me.
Sophie remained standing beside me.
Neither of us spoke.
For several seconds, Richard simply stared at the table.
He looked older than I remembered.