Chapter 82 Echoes Of The Past

The attic smelled of time itself, aged wood, forgotten memories, dust-laden air thick with the scent of parchment. Mariana sat cross-legged on the worn floor, the dim light from a single hanging bulb casting long shadows over the open box before her. The manuscript lay atop a pile of old papers, its spine cracked with years of neglect. But it was the envelope nestled between the brittle pages that made her breath hitch. With trembling fingers, she retrieved it. Her father’s handwriting, bold and unmistakable, sprawled across the front. It was addressed to no one. Swallowing hard, she slid a nail beneath the seal and unfolded the yellowed paper inside.