My chest tightened.
“She told you that?”
“Yes.”
“And you believed her?”
“I wanted to believe something that made leaving easier.”
The honesty in his voice was harder to hear than any excuse.
“She gave me a letter,” he continued. “She said it was from you.”
“Was it?”
“No. It was blank.”
I looked at him.
“Blank?”
“She handed me an envelope and told me you had written it but couldn’t bear to say goodbye. I opened it in the car. There was nothing inside.”
“Why didn’t you come back?”
“Because I thought the emptiness was the message.”
I pressed my hands together.
“I never knew.”
“I know.”
“Did you see my father?”
“No. But your mother said he had already spoken to my father. She said both families agreed it was best if we ended things.”
“Why didn’t you ask me?”
“I should have.”
“Yes.”
He lowered his head.
