Chapter 12 - THE PACKAGE
There was no return address.
Inside was my wedding braid.
I stared at it.
Nick’s face went pale.
We had left it at the venue.
At least, I thought we had.
After Caroline handed me the envelope, I remembered placing the braid inside a small decorative box.
In the chaos of leaving, the box disappeared.
Now it was sitting on our kitchen counter.
Beside it was a note.
I’M SORRY.
I DIDN’T KNOW HOW ELSE TO MAKE YOU UNDERSTAND.
No signature.
None was necessary.
Nick immediately called his mother.
She didn’t answer.
He left a message.
“Do not come to our house again.”
Then he checked our door camera.
At 6:12 that morning, Martha had walked onto our porch.
She placed the package beside the door.
Then she stood there for almost four minutes.
Watching the house.
It wasn’t threatening.
But it was deeply uncomfortable.
Nick sent the footage to his aunt Linda.
Linda called Martha.
We didn’t hear the conversation.
But twenty minutes later, Martha finally texted.
I WILL RESPECT YOUR REQUEST.
I put the braid back in the box.
Nick watched me.
“Do you want me to throw it away?”
“No.”
“Why?”
I ran my fingers over the flowers.
“Because this isn’t hers.”
He frowned.
“My hair.”
I closed the box.
“My wedding.”
“My memory.”
“She doesn’t get to own the meaning of it.”
Two weeks passed.
Then three.
Life slowly became ordinary again.
Nick and I finally took a shortened honeymoon.
Five days in Maine.
No investigations.
No screenshots.
No discussions about Martha.
We walked beside the ocean.
We ate too much seafood.
We slept late.
For the first time since the wedding, we felt newly married.
On our final evening, Nick and I sat outside our small rental cottage.
He looked at me.
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“Before the wedding, I suspected Mom had contacted Caroline.”
“You already told me Caroline contacted you.”
“No.”
He looked ashamed.
“I suspected before Caroline reached out.”
I stared at him.
“How?”
“I saw Mom’s phone once.”
“When?”
“Four months before the wedding.”
My chest tightened.
“What did you see?”
“Caroline’s name.”
“And?”
“A message that said, ‘I need you to help me before it’s too late.’”
I waited.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because Mom said it was about a charity event.”
“You believed her?”
Nick didn’t answer immediately.
“That’s not an answer.”
“No.”
He finally looked at me.
“I didn’t completely believe her.”
That hurt more than I expected.
“Then why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I wanted one part of our life that wasn’t about her.”
I stood.
“Nick.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I was trying to protect the wedding.”
“And by protecting it, you let me walk into that reception without knowing she might be planning something.”
His face fell.
“I didn’t know she would do what she did.”
“I know.”
That was the hardest part.
He wasn’t responsible for Martha cutting my hair.
But he had seen smoke and decided not to mention it because he desperately wanted to believe there was no fire.
For the first time since we married, I walked away from him.
Not out of the marriage.
Just down the path toward the water.
I needed space.
May you like
Nick didn’t follow.
And that was probably the wisest thing he could have done.
