Chapter 8: The Memory Ethan Buried
I drove home without turning on the radio.
Vanessa’s final words kept repeating in my head.
Ask him what happened the night your first wife died.
For years, that night had been a wound our family never touched.
Ethan was only nine years old when his mother passed away.
I remembered the hospital.
The doctors.
The long hallway.
The way Ethan sat quietly while everything around him fell apart.
I always thought he was too young to understand.
Maybe I was wrong.
When I arrived home, Ethan was in the backyard.
He looked up when he saw my face.
“Dad?””
I stopped in front of him.
“I talked to Vanessa.””
His expression immediately changed.
“What did she say?””
I took a breath.
“She mentioned your mother.””
The color left his face.
“What about Mom?””
I studied him carefully.
“What happened that night?””
He looked away.
“Dad…”
“I need the truth.””
His shoulders dropped.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then he whispered:
“I knew you would ask eventually.””
My heart sank.
“What do you mean?””
Ethan sat down.
“I never told you because Mom made me promise.””
I slowly sat beside him.
“Promise what?””
“That I wouldn’t blame myself.””
The words confused me.
“Blame yourself for what?””
He looked toward the yard.
“That night, Mom and I had an argument.””
My chest tightened.
“About what?””
“I was upset because I didn’t want to go to school the next day. I told her I hated everything.””
His voice shook.
“Then she left to pick something up.””
I listened quietly.
“And that was the last time I saw her.””
I reached for his shoulder.
“Ethan…”
He shook his head.
“There’s more.””
I waited.
“Before she left, she told me something.””
“What?””
His eyes filled with tears.
“She said no matter what happened, I should always trust you.””
I felt my throat tighten.
“Why would Vanessa bring this up?””
Ethan looked at me.
“I don’t know.””
But I did.
Vanessa wasn’t just trying to hurt Ethan.
She was trying to open the oldest wound in our family.
That night, I searched through old files.
Old papers.
Old memories.
And I found something I had forgotten.
A letter from my first wife.
It was written shortly before her death.
I had never opened it because I couldn’t handle losing another piece of her.
My hands shook as I unfolded it.
The first line was simple.
*Daniel, if you are reading this, something happened that I need you to understand.*
I kept reading.
And with every sentence, my confusion grew.
Because my first wife had written about someone she didn’t trust.
Someone who had been around our family before she died.
Someone who had a reason to hide the truth.
Then I reached the final paragraph.
And I stopped breathing.
The name written there was one I never expected to see.
Vanessa.
I looked at the letter again.
Then at the date.
It was written three weeks before I ever met her.
And suddenly, I realized something terrifying.
May you like
Vanessa didn’t enter my family by accident.
She had known about us long before I knew her.
