The Letter

I couldn’t look at my daughter’s distraught face when we confessed her real mother and I had a hookup behind my wife’s back.

Tears welled in the corner of her eyes, snatching away the letter left by her real mother.

She held back choked sobs as she read through, she paused glancing back up confusedly then back down at the letter numbly.

My wife sidled next to her, giving a reassuring hug through her own tears and betrayal.

Tears were now running down her face as she teared her eyes away from the letter. Hiding her face away in her hug.

She shot a withering look at me, but that’s okay. I deserved it for what I did. Even my wife, even after eighteen years to come to terms with my affair, couldn’t meet my eyes.

“It’s going to okay.” She murmured through sobs, her hands shaking and her smile was wilted her face had a glint of silent grief.

I had hoped to never see those eyes again, but now here they were, next to another pair, neither mine or hers, but the ones that no doubtably belonged to that woman all those years ago passed down like a really, really inconveniencing echo.

An echo of a horrid affair.

She screamed something at me before storming away, my wife called out for her.

Briefly looking back pityingly before going into her room.

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