The envelope sat between them on the kitchen table like a dormant curse.
Sarah hadn't opened it.
Not yet.
Not because she was afraid of what was inside, but because a part of her already knew.
Ace watched her from across the table, his coffee untouched. The morning light creeping through the curtains cast long, uneasy shadows across the floor. The mirror in the hallway hadn't cracked any further, but both of them avoided looking at it now. It felt... aware.
Finally, Sarah broke the silence.
"I wrote this," she said quietly. "Before I met you. Before I walked away from Hal."
Ace raised an eyebrow. "You remember that?"
"I don't." She traced the edge of the envelope. "But it's my handwriting. That version of me—Sarai—she must've written it. Hidden it. For later."
"Why now?" Ace asked.
She looked up. "Maybe I'm not as free of her as I thought."
That hurt. But Ace didn't show it.
Instead, he nodded. "Then we face it. Like we did before."
Sarah hesitated a second longer… and finally broke the seal.
The paper inside was yellowed, fragile. A single sheet.
She unfolded it slowly. Her hands didn't shake—her resolve had grown roots since Volume One—but her breath caught when she saw the first line:
"Dear Me,"
Ace leaned in as she read aloud.
"If you're reading this, it means you've forgotten what it cost to survive. You let your guard down. You trusted someone."
"I hope he's worth it."
Sarah paused. Her voice thickened but didn't break.
Ace's hand closed around hers. "He is."
She continued.
"You buried me. And for a while, I let you. But shadows don't die. They wait. And I've been waiting for the cracks to show. Because they always do."
"He'll leave you. Or hurt you. Or change you. And when he does, you'll come crawling back to me."
"Until then, I'll be watching."
No signature.
Just a smear of red ink at the bottom of the page. Or was it ink?
Sarah folded the letter, eyes dark.
"She's not gone," she said. "She's just waiting for me to fall apart again."
Ace's jaw clenched. "Then we don't give her the satisfaction."
But Sarah didn't answer. Her gaze had drifted to the window.
Because outside… across the field… there was a figure standing at the tree line.
A woman.
Barefoot. Hair tangled. Eyes shining.
And when she saw Sarah looking, she raised one hand—
—and waved.