After the divorce, she lived in a storage unit. One night, she heard a knock from the other side of the wall, and what followed left her frozen…

When she was ready to strike the doorknob, someone stopped her. It was the person in charge of that place. Without asking anything about her intentions, he said that the door needed to be pushed with force.

With a stronger push, she managed to enter. The room was empty. Not completely empty.

There was an unmade bed, some personal items scattered about, but there was no one there. Livia swept the space with the flickering light of the flashlight until her eyes found a cardboard box in the corner. She approached slowly.

Inside the box, she found a photo. A man with a tired but kind appearance, smiling next to a girl of about eight years old. The child’s eyes were intense, full of life, painfully reminiscent of Alice’s.

There was also a letter carefully folded. If you are reading this, it’s because I’m gone. I lost my family because of my addictions.

I walked away thinking it would be for the best, that sparing them the shame would be a form of love. But your words reminded me of the value of presence, of the courage to continue even when everything hurts. Thank you for reminding me what it means to be a father.

I will come back. I will try to rebuild. Livia fell to her knees, tears streaming freely.

The letter trembled in her hands. That stranger separated from her by just a thin plaster wall had touched her soul in ways she couldn’t explain. And now, he had left.

Not to flee, but to face. To rebuild. What if? The idea struck like a lightning bolt, illuminating a path that had been hidden in the shadows of her heart.

She didn’t sleep the rest of the night. When the first rays of sunlight began to filter through the cracks in the window, she had already made her decision. She took a sheet of paper and wrote her final note.

You saved me too. I discovered that I still love my husband. I’ve always loved him…