“I loved her.”
“So did I.
That was never the problem.”
Margaret hung up.
Clara set the phone down.
She didn’t call back.
🎓💙 Today marks an unforgettable success in her journey.
—
Two months later, Sophie came to Clara’s apartment with a box.
Inside were letters — dozens of them.
Unopened.
“These were at Grandma’s house,” Sophie said.
“She kept them in a drawer in her bedroom.
They’re all addressed to me.
All from you.”
Clara took one out.
The envelope was faded.
The address was written in her handwriting — careful, small, the way she wrote when she was trying not to cry.
“I sent one every week,” Clara said.
“For years.”
Sophie opened the first letter.
It was short:
“Dear Sophie, you’re three months old today.
You smiled at me this morning.
I know you won’t remember, but I will.
I love you more than anything in this world.
Mom.”
Sophie read it aloud.
