“Chloe wrote this.
Right before the crash.
I kept it hidden for five years.”
I reached for it.
Then we both heard it.
The sound of Daniel’s truck pulling back into the driveway.
—
What’s written on that paper — and why did Daniel come back early?
Ava shoved the note into my hands.
“Read it.
Right now.
Before he gets inside.”
My fingers wouldn’t cooperate.
The paper shook as I unfolded it.
Chloe’s handwriting — I would know it anywhere, the looping C, the way she pressed too hard on every vowel.
*Mom.
If something happens tonight, it wasn’t Ava’s fault.
Daniel has been lying to you.
I don’t know how to tell you what I know.
I’m scared.
I love you.
— C*
The front door handle moved.
I folded the note and pushed it into my cardigan pocket in one motion.
Ava was already on her feet, the jacket bundled behind her back.
Daniel stepped inside.
He was still in his work clothes.
He looked at me first, then at Ava, then back at me.
“Forgot my phone,” he said.
Neither of us spoke.
He crossed to the kitchen counter, picked up his phone, and stood there for a moment too long.
His eyes moved to the broken glass I hadn’t yet cleaned from the floor.
“Everything okay?”
“I dropped something,” I said.
My voice came out steadier than I deserved.
He looked at Ava again.
Something passed across his face — not concern.
Something harder than that.
“You’ve been crying,” he said to her.
“Anniversary,” Ava said quietly.
“I always get like this.”
A beat.
Then Daniel nodded, slid his phone into his pocket, and walked back toward the door.
“I’ll be home by six,” he said.
He didn’t kiss me goodbye.
He hadn’t in years, but I only noticed it in that moment.
The truck backed out of the driveway.
We listened until the engine sound disappeared completely.
Then Ava’s knees buckled and she sat down hard on the kitchen chair.
“He saw me,” she said.
