My name was written across the front.
My hands trembled as I opened it.
Daniel’s handwriting had become shaky near the end.
But it was unmistakably his.
He apologized first.
For dying.
For keeping secrets.
For believing that loving me somehow gave him the right to decide when I should learn the truth.
Then he told me about Evan.
He admitted why he had hidden that part of his life.
Shame over the father he had once been.
Fear that I would look at him differently.
And the foolish belief that there would always be more time.
There wasn’t.
Daniel wrote that Evan had met him only once as an adult.
Daniel wore the black watch that day because he wanted to look calm and dependable.
Evan stayed forty minutes.
Then he left.
He never answered another call.
Daniel didn’t blame him.
Near the end of the letter, he wrote:
