One bouquet resting beside the porch swing held a small white envelope tucked beneath a ribbon.
Unlike the others, it wasn’t professionally attached.
It looked as though someone had slipped it in by hand.
A tiny blue heart had been drawn across the front.
There was no address.
No stamp.
No name.
Just the little heart.
“Wait.”
I stepped past Jane and reached for it.
“Mark…”
She sounded nervous.
“I just want to see who sent all this.”
The envelope felt surprisingly light.
Inside was a single folded piece of notebook paper.
Nothing expensive.
Nothing romantic.
Just ordinary paper folded twice.
I unfolded it carefully.
The first thing I noticed wasn’t the message.
It was the handwriting.
The letters were oversized.
Some leaned sideways.
Others floated above the lines while several dipped awkwardly below them.
The spacing was uneven.
Certain words were squeezed together while others stretched across half the page.
It wasn’t elegant.
It wasn’t polished.
It certainly wasn’t the handwriting of someone trying to impress a woman.
I frowned.
“This is…”
Jane leaned closer.
“What does it say?”
I swallowed before reading aloud.
“Please don’t quit.”
Jane inhaled sharply.
Todo su cuerpo se tensó.
La miré.
"¿Sabes lo que es esto?"
No respondió.
Simplemente miró el papel.
Volví a mirar hacia abajo.
La segunda frase fue aún más corta.
"Te queremos muchísimo."
Mi voz se quebró inesperadamente.
A mi lado, Jane se llevó una mano temblorosa a la boca.
Sus ojos se llenaron al instante.
Seguí leyendo.
"Lo sentimos mucho."
El silencio se apoderó del porche.
