I wanted you to know the truth.
I wanted Anna to have the apology I owed her.
And I wanted you to have the choice I took away from you when we were young.
I lowered the letter.
For a long time, I couldn’t say anything.
Then I whispered:
“She was sorry.”
Anna nodded.
“Very.”
I looked down at the letter again.
There was one final page.
I read it slowly.
David,
I don’t expect forgiveness.
If you cannot forgive me, I understand.
But please don’t let my mistake destroy the good years we had.
I loved you.
That part was never a lie.
The children were never a lie.
Our home was never a lie.
The laughter, the arguments, the vacations, the nights we stayed awake talking, the mornings we shared coffee—none of that was false.
I made one terrible decision before our life together began.
But the love I gave you afterward was real.
