**Chapter 66 - His Letter** I found myself locked in a silent standoff with an ordinary piece of paper resting on my table. Home again after an hour spent in turmoil, every heartbeat pounded with the weight of indecision. Should I dare open it, or would I be better off tearing it into tiny pieces? That letter had smoldered in my purse like an unwelcome secret during the drive back, a constant reminder of the storm brewing inside me. Here I was, still immobilized, my gaze glued to its unassuming surface. Curiosity tugged insistently at one corner of my mind, while another part of me firmly dismissed its significance. This letter was penned by a man who had once loathed me—what could I possibly glean from his words? As I lifted the letter, fingers trembling, the impulse to tear it apart was abruptly curbed by a whisper echoing in my thoughts. “Just read the damn thing. What’s the worst that could happen?” this inner voice urged. I cringed inwardly, recognizing the folly in those words. Famous last words, indeed. The worst that could happen? It could shred what remained of my already fragile heart. Words were insidious weapons, capable of inflicting wounds far deeper than any blade. I still bore the scars of the venomous remarks my so-called parents had hurled at me over the years. Those echoes lingered, raw and unhealed. “Just open it!” the voice screamed, a desperate plea that teetered on the edge of hysteria. With a practiced determination, I resolved to silence my doubts and unfolded the letter. *Dear Ava,* *If you’re reading this, it means I didn’t survive the surgery. To be honest, I’ve lost all hope. The doctors are scrambling to save me, but I’m a lost cause. I can already feel your grandparents beckoning me to their side. Whether it’s a dying man’s fantasy or not, I sense I may have earned a particularly dark corner in hell for the way I treated you.* *You were such a sweet girl when Winnie entrusted you with us, but we completely shattered that light within you. I will carry that regret with me to my end.* *I still remember the joyous days when Winnie was with us. We played games together, you and Emma, and your innocence was a treasure. How did things spiral so far?* I halted, reeling. Confusion clouded my thoughts. If he cherished those memories, what had morphed him into the monster I knew? Gazing back down at the letter, I pressed on. *I don’t know what happened. I don’t understand why I became a monster to you. After Winnie died and charged us with looking after you, something within me twisted. I won’t excuse my actions; nothing could justify the hideous way we treated you. It was sickening. I know I am facing retribution for what I did, and karma does indeed wield the sharpest blade.* *Before I slip away, I need you to hear my apology. For every terrible thing I did. I know this words can never atone for the pain I caused, but this is all I can offer. I’m so very sorry for my foolishness, sorry for being the worst father imaginable—sorry for being the villain in your once beautiful fairytale.* *I won’t ask for your forgiveness; I’ve long forfeited that right. It’s my fate to burn for eternity in the depths of my own hell.* *But I hope you’ll be there for your mother. She will need you by her side. Deep down, she possesses a good heart, and once she grapples with her own failings toward you, it will shatter her completely.* *Always remember, I love you. I may not have shown it in ways that mattered, but those feelings existed all the same.* *Goodbye, my sweet girl.* With a swift motion, I folded the letter and shoved it back into my bag, a surge of anger rising up from my core. Why did this letter strike a deeper chord within me than my mother’s tears? Perhaps it was the realization that these were the last words he had penned, possibly while grappling with the precipice of death. Suddenly restless, I stormed toward my bedroom, fiercely pushing aside any encroaching thoughts. I was at my breaking point, and the last thing I needed was to slip back into the shadows that had nearly claimed me before. I collapsed onto my bed, determined to keep the flood of tears at bay. I had shed enough for people who didn’t deserve a single drop from me. Fatigue, both physical and emotional, crawled over me. Before long, I succumbed to a dreamless slumber. When I awoke, the clock blinked eleven o'clock like a flashing alarm. Panic surged through me. I needed to pick Noah up by nine; with Rowan out for a business meeting, I’d lost track of time entirely. Climbing out of bed, I stumbled as I hastily prepared for the day ahead, showering and dressing in a whirlwind of frantic energy. I flew down the stairs, praying to avoid a disastrous fall. My heart skipped as I entered the kitchen to find Rowan and Noah sharing a breakfast that looked like something from a dream. Clad in a suit, Rowan flipped pancakes, a domesticity I had never witnessed before. “Mommy, you’re finally awake!” Noah exclaimed, his mouth stuffed with food. “I wanted to wake you, but Dad said to let you sleep.” “What on earth is going on here?” I asked, confusion knitting my brow. “I’m making breakfast. Sit down and eat something before I head out,” Rowan replied nonchalantly, expertly flipping another pancake. “Aren’t you late for your meeting? You should have woken me!” “Forget the meeting," he shot back, a hint of annoyance coloring his tone. "You looked like you needed the sleep, so I let you be.” His casual dismissal left me bewildered. This was a new side of him, tender and surprisingly caring. A side I didn’t want to acknowledge because it threatened to unravel the progress I had made in distancing myself from the hurt he had inflicted. Completely in shock, I mechanically placed eggs and toast onto my plate, unsure of what to make of his behavior. “When’s your next doctor’s appointment?” he asked abruptly, pulling me out of my thoughts. I looked up, scrutinizing him, weighing his intentions. “Next Friday. Why?” Suspicion flickered within me. “Just curious,” he murmured, turning off the stove. “I have to go.” He checked his watch, then paused, looking at both of us—Noah, cheerfully oblivious, and me, teetering on the edge of confusion. He leaned down and kissed Noah’s cheek before turning to me, indecision flickering in his eyes. I held my breath, silently pleading for him to walk away. I couldn’t bear his presence right now. The air around us felt heavy, making it hard to breathe. “I’ll see you two when I get back,” he said, and a wave of relief washed over me as he stepped back, returning to his customary coldness. “Okay, Dad. Don’t forget to bring me something!” Noah chimed, while I simply nodded, keeping my mouth shut. Rowan’s gaze lingered on me, as if he was fighting with himself to say something more. I felt the old Rowan slide back into place—the distant, detached figure I was accustomed to. Without another word, he exited the house, leaving me staring at the spot where he had stood, grappling with a whirlwind of emotions. Why was he acting as if he cared? Frustrated, I scoffed softly under my breath, shoving a piece of pancake into my mouth. The truth was, Rowan didn’t care about me—this was just a show, a performance for Noah’s sake. We were all just pretending, as we had always done. Nothing more, right?