It was real.
The handwriting—soft, familiar, impossible—belonged to his wife.
The woman they buried.
Slowly, he opened it.
Lily watched, her breath uneven, her feet still in the water.
Richard unfolded the letter.
His eyes scanned the first line—
And he stopped breathing.
“No…” he whispered.
“What does it say?” Lily asked, her voice small.
He couldn’t answer.
The boy stepped closer.
“She said you wouldn’t believe it,” he murmured.
Richard swallowed hard… then read aloud:
“If you’re reading this, she felt the water.
That means it’s time to tell her the truth.”
Lily’s fingers tightened around her crutches.
“What truth?”
Richard’s eyes filled with tears.
He looked at her—
Really looked at her.
Then down at her feet… still in the water.
“You were never supposed to forget,” he said.
Lily’s heart started pounding.
“Forget what?”
The boy slowly stepped back.
Richard’s voice broke.
“The day you stopped walking…
was the day you saw what happened to your mother.”
Silence.
Lily’s breath hitched.
“No…” she whispered.
And then—
her second foot shifted in the water.
Not a twitch.
A real movement.
Richard’s eyes widened in terror.
Because Lily wasn’t just remembering—
She was about to say something.
Something she was never supposed to remember.
