She hadn’t shut me out of her life after all.
Somehow, the message had never reached me. As I read each line, my hands shook and tears blurred the letters. For the first time in years, the emptiness in my chest softened. My daughter had tried to come back. I just hadn’t known.
A Painful Truth
Before I packed a bag, I needed to know how this card had gone missing. So, we drove to see my ex-husband, Nigel—Karen’s father. He looked older than I remembered, his expression guarded. When I asked about the letter, guilt flashed across his face.
He admitted that Karen had sent the card to his address, hoping he’d pass it along. But in the chaos of everyday life, he had tucked it into a drawer and forgotten. He’d never told me about it.
The truth hit hard. Two years of silence—of birthdays spent crying, of wondering what I’d done wrong—all because of one misplaced envelope.
For a moment, I felt fury, but beneath it was something gentler: relief. The letter proved that Karen hadn’t stopped loving me. She had reached out, and somehow, life had just gotten in the way.
That night, I made a decision. I wouldn’t waste another day wondering what might have been. I would find my daughter and tell her, face-to-face, that I had never stopped loving her either.
The Journey North
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