Chapter 6: The Unopened Letter
Adrien was at the kitchen table when morning came, though he had slept for less than an hour.
Mila sat across from him in one of the chairs, both hands wrapped around a mug of warm milk. Nora leaned against her sister’s shoulder, still half asleep. The rain had stopped, but drops clung to the windows, turning the country road beyond them silver.
“You said you’d be here in the morning,” Nora murmured.
“I’m here.”
She looked at him for a moment, then nodded, as if filing the answer away for later.
Adrien had kept his promise. He hadn’t left the house, though his phone had buzzed repeatedly on the counter. His assistant had called twice. He’d sent one message saying he was unavailable and turned the phone facedown.
The world had continued without him for a few hours. It could manage a little longer.
After breakfast, he called the clinic. The receptionist confirmed that Elise was awake and stable. A nurse had said she could have a short visit, if the girls were ready and the visit stayed calm.
Adrien didn’t answer for them.
He crouched beside the table so he was level with their faces.
“Would you like to see Elise?”
Nora’s eyes brightened, then clouded with worry.
“Can she talk to us?”
“The receptionist said she’s awake. She might be tired, though.”
Mila pressed her clay token against her shirt. “Can I bring this?”
“You can bring it,” Adrien said. “You don’t have to show it to anyone.”
Nora tucked the folded photograph into her pocket. Adrien waited until both girls had their coats on before he opened the door.
The drive to the clinic was quiet. Nora asked twice whether Elise would be angry with them. Both times, Adrien said he didn’t know, but he would stay with them while they found out.
At the clinic, the receptionist recognized them and came around the counter.
“She’s been asking about the girls,” she said softly. “She may not have much energy, so let her set the pace.”
Adrien nodded. He wanted to promise the girls everything would be all right, but he had learned how little comfort a promise could offer when no one knew what came next.
Instead, he rested a hand near the small of Nora’s back, not touching until she leaned into him.
“I’m right here,” he said.
The room smelled of disinfectant and warm blankets. Elise lay propped against white pillows, a blanket drawn to her waist. Her face was pale, but her eyes opened fully when the girls stepped through the door.
“Nora. Mila.”
Nora crossed the room first. She stopped beside the bed, hands clasped tightly together.
“We’re sorry,” she said.
Elise’s brow furrowed. “For what, sweetheart?”
“We left.”
“Oh, honey.” Elise lifted one hand from the blanket. Nora took it carefully. “I was scared when I woke up and you weren’t there. I’m not angry.”
Mila stayed close to Adrien. Her fingers had gone white around the clay.
Elise noticed her.
“You made it to the house?”
Mila nodded.
“I knew you would find him,” Elise said, then glanced at Adrien. “I just never thought you’d go alone.”
The words landed with the weight of confirmation. She knew who the girls were. She knew they had come from her.
Adrien pulled a chair closer but didn’t sit until Elise gave a small nod.
“You’ve been looking after them?”
“For years,” Elise said. “Camille trusted me with them. I was there when she needed help, and I watched them when she had to go somewhere.”
Her breath caught. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, gathering herself.
“I should have made sure they knew what to do if something happened to me.”
“You were taken to the clinic,” Adrien said. “They got frightened.”
“Of course they did.” Elise opened her eyes and looked at the twins. “You must have been so scared.”
Nora nodded. Mila edged nearer to the bed.
Adrien studied Elise’s face. He wanted to ask how Camille had died, what she had endured, how she had managed to raise two children while he believed she was gone from his life. The questions crowded his throat, each one tangled with another.
He chose the one that mattered now.
“Are there people we need to contact for the girls’ care?”
Elise’s gaze flicked to the twins.
“We should talk about that with the right people,” she said. “Not decide everything in this room. They need steady care. They need to know where they’ll sleep and who will be there when they wake up.”
“I agree.”
Mila looked at him as if testing whether he meant it.
“You won’t send us somewhere without telling us?” she asked.
Adrien felt the old instinct to answer with certainty, to sweep the fear away before it could hurt her. But that wasn’t the same as being truthful.
“I won’t send you away without a known caregiver,” he said. “And no one should make decisions about you without listening to what you need. I’ll stay with you while the adults work out the safest plan.”
Mila’s grip on the token loosened slightly. It wasn’t a smile, but she didn’t look away.
Elise watched him, her expression tired and thoughtful.
“Camille wanted you to have something,” she said. “She left it with me.”
Adrien’s pulse quickened.
“A letter?”
“Yes.” Elise glanced toward the small bag resting on the chair beside her bed. “I kept it with my things. I didn’t know whether I should send it. Camille wasn’t ready for me to mail it while she was alive.”
“Why not?”
Elise looked down at the blanket. “She thought she might find a way to speak with you herself. She wanted to explain things in person.”
Adrien stared at the pale mark where Elise’s fingers pressed into the sheet.
“And after she died?”
“Afterward, I couldn’t make myself decide what to do.” Elise’s voice was quiet. “I was afraid it would hurt you. I was afraid not giving it to you would be worse. Then the girls came here, and I thought… perhaps it was time.”
Nora had been watching her.
“Is it Mom’s letter?” she asked.
“Yes, sweetheart.”
“Did she write about us?”
Elise’s eyes softened. “She did.”
Nora turned to Adrien. “You can read it?”
The question held something larger than permission. Adrien heard the worry beneath it: whether the letter would change what he wanted, whether the truth could make him leave.
“If Elise says it’s all right,” he said, “and you’re ready for me to.”
Elise nodded. “It was written for him.”
She reached into the bag and drew out a cream-colored envelope. Its edges were worn soft, as if it had been handled many times. Adrien recognized Camille’s handwriting before Elise placed it in his hands.
His name was written across the front.
For a moment, he couldn’t move. He had seen Camille’s handwriting on grocery lists, birthday cards, notes left beside his coffee. He had once known its loops and slant as well as he knew his own. Now, even a few strokes of her pen could make the clinic room disappear around him.
Mila stood close enough that her sleeve brushed his arm.
“Is it going to make you sad?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. “Probably.”
Her face tightened.
“But I’ll still be here,” he added. “And you don’t have to take care of me.”
Nora looked toward Elise, who nodded gently.
Adrien turned the envelope over. It was sealed. He ran his thumb along the flap, then stopped.
“Do you want me to read it now?”
Elise looked at the twins. “Only if everyone’s comfortable.”
Nora took Mila’s hand.
“I want him to know,” she whispered.
Mila hesitated, then gave a small nod.
Adrien eased the flap open. The paper inside had been folded twice. His fingers trembled as he unfolded it, and he had to steady the page against his knee.
May you like
The first line was in Camille’s unmistakable hand.
“I should have told you about our daughters.”
