The letter arrived three days after the funeral, and nothing in my life felt solid after that moment. Her handwriting trembled on the envelope, my name pulled out of the grave I’d just watched close. I stared at it for hours, terrified that one torn edge might erase every story I’d ever believed about us, about sacrifice, about love built in scarcity. When I finally unfolded the pages, the first sentence shatte… Continues…
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