The husband did not let his wife into the barn for 35 years. After the funeral, she decided to come in and fainted when she saw it…

“How could I forbid anything when I didn’t even know about her?” Sarah thought, bewildered. Dark suspicions crept in. Could David have had a mistress who knew about Lydia and blocked contact? Sarah was lost.

There were more letters, but she needed time to process. After a few minutes, she took another envelope.

Remarkably, David had read and organized every letter. This helped, as the next letter dispelled Sarah’s fears. “I saw you with your new wife,” Lydia wrote.

“You looked happy, and she’s very beautiful. Mom admitted she lied to excuse you. No one stopped you from seeing me.

You chose not to.” Sarah exhaled. At least David hadn’t been unfaithful. But that was small comfort.

The realization of the secret he’d kept for 35 years still hurt. Lydia went on to say her mother confessed the truth because she was terminally ill. Natalie, David’s first wife, knew she didn’t have long.

She also knew Lydia would want to see her father after her death. Natalie didn’t want David to hurt Lydia further, so she revealed that he had consciously abandoned her. Sarah spent hours in the shed, reading dozens of letters, with one left.

It had arrived just a month ago. Lydia wrote that her mother had passed after a long battle with illness.

She invited David to the funeral. They weren’t strangers, after all. Sarah knew David hadn’t gone anywhere.

He’d been too weak in his final month. Even if he’d had the strength, he likely wouldn’t have gone. Sarah was left alone with her thoughts, struggling to process the overwhelming truth.

Why had David abandoned his daughter? Why never reply to her letters? Was he a coward, avoiding responsibility, his anger and gruffness just a defense? She left the shed, taking the last letter with her, unsure why but feeling compelled.

It was dusk outside, though the sun had been shining when she entered the shed. Despite her exhaustion and emotional depletion, Sarah didn’t go home. She went to the cemetery.

She sat by David’s grave, staring at it. There was no portrait yet, just earth. “You have a daughter,” she said.

“You were a cold man, but not so heartless as to abandon your own blood.” She needed to voice her thoughts, to unload the emotions flooding her chest, so she spoke to her husband’s grave, hoping he’d hear and repent in the afterlife.

David knew how desperately Sarah wanted to be a mother, yet he’d been a father and rejected it. His past mistakes had robbed her of that joy, denying her fulfillment as a woman. “It cuts me to the core.”

“How could you carry such pain?” she continued, speaking to the grave. “That’s why you got sick.

You drove yourself to the grave. You kept her things, her letters—you cared.” Sarah didn’t scold her late husband.

She was sorting her thoughts aloud, organizing them in her mind. For another 30 minutes, she sat silently, weeping quietly, tears falling onto the damp soil. Suddenly, she heard rustling behind her.

It was the cemetery caretaker, warning her it was late and he’d soon lock the gates. “I’ve seen many tears. This place isn’t for joy,” he said softly.

“Was this man your husband? Were you together long?” Sarah looked up, her tear-filled eyes meeting his. His face showed genuine sympathy. He hated to rush her but had a job to do, so he spoke gently.

She confirmed she was at her husband’s grave. “Letting go of loved ones is hard, but it’s part of life,” the caretaker said. “Don’t cry.

They say the dead don’t like it. Come back tomorrow; I need to lock up.” “I’ve let him go.

It hurts that after 35 years, I never really knew him,” Sarah replied, rising. “I won’t come back tomorrow. No.

I’ll fix his mistakes. I won’t abandon that girl.” The caretaker didn’t understand her words.

He didn’t pry. His job was to maintain order. Sarah left, with no plans to return alone.

She clutched Lydia’s last letter, having memorized the sender’s address. That’s why she took it—to find Lydia.

What shocked her most was that David’s first wife and daughter lived in the same town, not far away. Their suburban home was just a 30-minute drive from the city center. Couldn’t David have spared a few hours a month to see his daughter? She’d never get an answer.

The next day, Sarah went to the address on the letter. A young man opened the door, and she assumed he was Lydia’s husband, but he didn’t know Lydia or Natalie.

“I bought this house a couple of weeks ago through an agency; never met the owner,” he said, unable to help. Sarah returned home empty-handed, unsure what to do next.

She desperately wanted to meet Lydia, though she didn’t fully understand why. Now, she could only hope Lydia would write to David again, unaware of his death…