I was cleaning the study when I found it.
A dusty brown envelope hidden behind old books.
It had my name on it. Written in Melissa's handwriting.
My heart skipped.
I opened it slowly, fingers trembling.
"Claire," it began.
"If you're reading this, I've already left. I never wanted to stay. I never wanted to marry Adrian. I just wanted to run."
My breath caught.
"I know you'll take my place. You always loved him. Even when I didn't deserve either of you."
My eyes burned.
"But be careful. Adrian's love… it's not gentle. It's heavy. If you're not strong enough, it will crush you."
I stared at the letter for a long time, unsure if I felt hate, guilt, or sorrow.
Maybe all three.
---
That evening, I didn't tell Adrian about the letter.
Instead, I watched him cook pasta in his white shirt, sleeves rolled.
"You're staring," he said.
"I'm allowed," I replied.
He walked over and kissed my forehead. "You okay?"
I nodded, forcing a smile. "Just thinking."
He paused. "You still don't trust me."
I looked up. "Do you trust me?"
His silence answered that for both of us.
---
Later that night, I sat on the bed, letter in hand, and whispered to myself, "Why did you really leave, Melissa?"
Because this story wasn't over.
It was just beginning again.
And this time, I wasn't the one chasing love.
I was the one holding it hostage.