Chapter 242

The handwriting was jagged, the letters barely legible so shaky and uneven that Cassandra had to squint and take long, careful moments to decipher each word. It wasn’t just the poor penmanship; it was the weight behind them, the tremor in every stroke, the story aching to be told. When she finally made out the sentence, her chest tightened. Her vision blurred again as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks, unchecked. The words hit her harder than she was prepared for soft in their innocence but brutal in implication. She doubled over slightly in her chair, her arms instinctively wrapping around her torso as if shielding herself from a storm that had already passed but left its wreckage behind.