had erased entire rooms from my memory back then.
I was pregnant.
Terrified.
Then suddenly a mother.
Then doing it alone.
The years blurred, and some names disappeared with them.
After a minute, Mr. Merrick knocked softly and entered.
He was older, kind-eyed, carrying himself with the careful posture of someone accustomed to other people’s hardest days.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said. “Thomas passed away six months ago. He wanted to make certain the final letter still reached you.”
Adrian looked up.
“He died?”
Mr. Merrick nodded.
“He came
