I collapsed onto the bench beside the grave, clutching the letter.
All those weeks—her final weeks—she hadn’t been angry with me.
She had been thanking me.
For the one thing I had done right.
Mark stood beside me, his voice low and steady.
“I was going to leave you,” he said. “After what you did to her dog… I couldn’t forgive it.”
My heart stopped.
“But she asked me to give you that letter,” he continued. “Her last wish was for me not to lose someone else.”
He looked out across the cemetery.
