Three days later, David went to the hospital and never returned.
At the funeral, Grace stood beside my children. When people asked who she was, I said she was family, though I still did not know whether that was true.
Three days later, David went to the hospital and never returned.
At the funeral, Grace stood beside my children. When people asked who she was, I said she was family, though I still did not know whether that was true.


The night after the funeral, I lay awake counting every question David had left behind.
Near midnight, Grace appeared holding a wooden box.
“He told me to wait until the day after,” she said.
I asked her to leave it until morning, but she refused.
“I have spent my whole life as a secret. I cannot wait anymore.”
She sat beside me and placed the box between us. Inside were old letters and faded photographs. The first picture showed David’s father beside a young woman I had never seen.
“My mother,” Grace whispered.
On the back, David’s father had written one word: Forgive me.
Then Grace told me the truth.