Chapter 129: His heart poured out on paper
Later that evening, the mansion was quiet. Ethan had dropped her home from the gallery; she was glad none of her brothers were around, and none of them saw Ethan.
Mara sat on the edge of the bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows on the walls. She hadn’t opened the letter yet. It sat in her lap, folded neatly, its corners slightly creased from being held so tightly by Ethan. She hadn’t looked at it until now. Part of her was scared of what it might say. Part of her just didn’t know if she was ready to feel what it might stir.
But she couldn’t let it sit there forever, she had made up her mind, what could change?
With a slow, deliberate motion, Mara unfolded the paper. The ink was handwritten, neat but hurried in some places, as if Ethan had written it in a rush, but had paused often to make sure each word was just right.
She read the first line:
"I don’t have a perfect way to start this, but I need you to know something. Every mistake I made—every moment I doubted you, every hurtful word I said to you haunts me. And I don’t know how to fix that. But I’m willing to try."
Her heart tightened. She swallowed, fighting the tears that burned the back of her throat. She could feel the weight of every word. She didn’t want to cry, not now—not yet—but it was so hard not to, especially when the words felt so raw, so honest.
She continued reading.
"I used to think that love was just a word I could say when things were good. But it’s not. It’s something that takes work, effort, and care and I failed you in all of those areas. I didn’t show you that. I didn’t show you the man I could be, the man I want to be for you, for us, and for the babies we’re bringing into this world. Not making excuses but I had a problem with trust, I thought I did trust you but I realized I didn’t. I understand you don’t want me and you don’t trust me. You shouldn’t. But I’m asking—no, begging—for a chance to prove that I can be someone worthy of your love at least just for the next three months before the divorce is finalized, I will do all that I can and if you still want the divorce I won’t fight it and I won’t stop fighting for a place in your life either."
Her fingers trembled as she read, her breath shallow. Each sentence felt like it was peeling back layers of her heart that she’d spent so long hiding, so long protecting from the person who had once shattered it.
But there was something in his words that felt different—something that reminded her of the Ethan she had once loved. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t the grand apology she’d imagined—but it was real. Vulnerable. Sincere.