Stacks of old, yellowed envelopes filled the shelves—each one carefully preserved, each one addressed to someone who never received them.
Clara reached out with trembling hands.
CLARA: “She wrote all of these… to me?”
Margaret nodded, unable to speak.
Clara opened the first envelope.
FLASHBACK (voice of Diane reading letter):
“My baby… I don’t even know your name yet, but I already love you more than anything in this world.”
Clara froze.
Another letter.
“They told me you died. I don’t believe them. I can feel you are alive somewhere.”
Her breathing quickened.
CLARA: “She thought I was dead?”
Margaret broke down completely.
MARGARET: “They lied to her. Our parents told her you didn’t survive.”
Clara collapsed onto the floor, letters scattering around her like falling pieces of a life she never knew existed.
She opened another one.
“If you ever find me… I will wait for you my whole life.”
Clara whispered through tears:
CLARA: “She never stopped looking…”
Margaret knelt beside her.
MARGARET: “She died believing she failed you.”
Clara looked up slowly, eyes filled with shock, grief, and something deeper—connection.
CLARA: “Then I need to finish what she started.”
Margaret didn’t understand.
CLARA: “I need to find where she’s buried.”
A pause.
Then Clara added softly:
CLARA: “So I can finally tell her… I existed.”
