Writers 
I looked at Amara.
She was still staring at the letter in my hands.
“Why are you looking at it like that?” I asked.
She quickly looked away.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
She said nothing.
I unfolded the letter completely and began to read.
My dear daughter,
If you’re reading this, then something happened that I prayed would never happen. There are things about our family that I couldn’t tell you while I was alive. Not because I didn’t love you, but because knowing the truth could have put you in danger.
I stopped.
My hands were trembling.
I continued.
Trust no one who tells you they know everything about what happened to me. Especially someone who was close to you.
I slowly lowered the letter.
“Amara…”
She didn’t answer.
I read the next line.
The person who has been watching over you isn’t trying to protect you. They’re trying to find something I hid before I died.
My heart sank.
I looked around the room.
“What did you hide, Mum?”
Amara suddenly stepped toward me.
“Give me the letter.”
I pulled it away.
“Why?”
“Because you don’t understand what you’re reading.”
“Then explain it.”
She hesitated.
That hesitation told me everything.
“You knew,” I whispered.
Amara’s eyes filled with tears.
“I knew some of it.”
“Some of what?”
Before she could answer, we heard something outside the study.
A floorboard creaked.
Someone was walking toward us.
Amara immediately turned off the light.
“Don’t say anything.”
We stood silently in the darkness.
The footsteps stopped outside the door.
Then the handle slowly moved.
I held my breath.
The door opened.
But nobody entered.
Instead, a small envelope was pushed across the floor.
Then the door closed again.
I waited several seconds before picking it up.
There was no name on it.
Inside was a photograph.
I looked at it under the faint light from my phone.
It was my mother.
But she wasn’t alone.
Standing beside her were Amara and Daniel.
I stared at the picture.
“This was taken before I ever met you,” I whispered.
Amara said nothing.
I turned toward her.
“How?”
She finally broke down.
“My mother knew yours.”
“What?”
“Our families knew each other long before we became friends.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“Then why did you pretend you barely knew Daniel?”
“Because Daniel wasn’t supposed to be involved.”
“Involved in what?”
Amara wiped her eyes.
“Your mother’s secret.”
Suddenly, my phone vibrated.
Another message from the unknown number.
“Ask Amara what happened the night your mother died.”
I looked at Amara.
She saw the message on my screen.
Her face went pale.
“You can’t believe everything that person tells you.”
“Then tell me the truth.”
She stared at the floor.
For several seconds, there was only silence.
Then she whispered:
“I was there.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“The night your mother died…”
She looked up at me.
“I was there.”
I took a step backward.
“You were there?”
She nodded.
“But I wasn’t alone.”
I waited.
“Who was with you?”
Before she could answer, we heard the front door slam downstairs.
Amara grabbed my hand.
“We have to leave. Now.”
“Why?”
She looked toward the hallway.
“Because Daniel wasn’t the person who came into this house tonight.”
My blood ran cold.
“Then who was?”
Amara’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“The person who sent you those messages.”
To be continued… 👀
