part 5
PART 5
The letters were in Vivian’s house.
Amelia knew before anyone said it.
She knew because her mother’s face changed when Thomas mentioned the church office.
Not guilt exactly.
Recognition.
The kind of recognition that belongs to people who have touched evidence with their own hands.
“Where are they?” Amelia asked.
Vivian’s lips tightened.
“This is not the time.”
Amelia laughed once.
It sounded broken.
“This is my wedding.”
“You brought a lie to it.”
Vivian’s eyes flashed.
“I gave you a life.”
Thomas flinched.
Amelia did not.
“You gave me a story.”
The words hung between them.
Nathan quietly removed his suit jacket and placed it around Amelia’s shoulders.
The wind had picked up, but she barely felt it.
Her whole childhood was rearranging itself.
Every missing answer.
Every time Vivian shut down questions.
Every birthday when Amelia asked what her father was like and Vivian said, “He would have loved you.”
Would have.
Not does.
Never does.
Thomas reached into his coat once more.
This time, he pulled out a bundle of copied letters tied with string.
“I kept copies.”
Vivian stared at them.
Thomas handed them to Amelia.
His hands trembled so badly she had to steady the bundle.
The first envelope had a date.
Amelia’s first birthday.
Then fifth.
Then tenth.
Then sixteenth.
Then eighteenth.
Then every year after.
Amelia opened one with shaking fingers.
My little girl,
Today you are five.
I wonder if you like pancakes.
I wonder if you sing in the car.
I wonder if you ask too many questions like your mother did.
I do not know if these letters reach you.
I write anyway because being your father is the only part of my life no one can take from me.
Amelia covered her mouth.
Nathan looked away to give her privacy from the crowd.
Thomas wiped his eyes.
“I stopped sending the originals when the church office changed.”
“But I never stopped writing.”
Vivian whispered, “You made me look cruel.”
Thomas looked at her.
“No.”
“I made myself remain your daughter’s father.”
Amelia lifted her eyes.
“Where are the originals?”
Vivian said nothing.
Amelia stepped closer.
“Mom.”
The word sounded different now.
Smaller.
Sharper.
“Where are my letters?”
Vivian’s face collapsed at last.
“In the attic.”
The crowd gasped.
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Amelia took one step back as if her mother had struck her too.
Read the full story 👉 Vivian admits the original letters are hidden in the attic, proving Amelia’s father had tried to reach her every year of her life.
