Sophie entered the restaurant carrying a worn-out envelope, the edges slightly frayed. As she approached our table, I could see the mixture of apprehension and determination in her eyes. This was not what I had anticipated.
My mind raced with possibilities, trying to grasp the significance of the envelope she cradled so protectively. She placed it gently on the table, and for a moment, neither of us spoke. The tension between us was palpable, a silent storm brewing over the remnants of our past.
Finally, Sophie broke the silence. “Ethan,” she began, her voice soft yet steady, “there’s something you need to see.”
I hesitated, unsure whether to trust her intentions, but the curiosity gnawed at me. Slowly, I reached for the envelope and opened it.
Inside, I found a collection of letters — each one addressed to me. Confusion washed over me as I picked up the first letter, the date marked a year after our divorce. Sophie watched as I read through them, her expression a mix of hope and fear.
What happened next changed everything…
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