Mom took a shaky breath.
“Six years ago, when your father left, I was falling apart,” she began. “I thought I was failing you. I thought you were going to lose the one person who was supposed to protect you.”
I didn't say anything.
I just stared at her.
“What does Ethan have to do with that?”
Mom wiped a tear from her cheek.
“One afternoon, I was sitting in the school parking lot crying. I didn't realize anyone was there.”
“Except Ethan.”
She nodded.
“He came over and sat beside me. He didn't ask why I was crying. He just sat there.”
My throat tightened.
“That sounds like Ethan.”
Mom smiled sadly.
“He looked at me and said, ‘Mrs. Carter, Maddie is sad too. But she doesn't show it.’”
I looked down.
Mom continued.
“He told me that you were pretending to be strong because you didn't want me to worry.”
I felt my eyes burn.
“I didn't know he noticed that.”
“He noticed everything.”
Mom reached into the drawer beside her bed and pulled out a small envelope.
My name was written across the front.
Maddie — when you're old enough to understand.
I stared at it.
“What is that?”
“Ethan gave it to me.”
My heart skipped.
“Six years ago?”
She nodded.
“He told me not to open it. He said I should keep it until the day you were old enough to make your own decisions.”
I slowly took the envelope.
My hands were shaking.
“Why would Ethan give you a letter for me?”
Mom looked at me.
“Because that day, I asked him to promise me something.”
“What?”
“That he would always look out for you.”
I swallowed.
“And he promised?”
“He did.”
Mom's voice broke.
“But then I made a mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“I turned his promise into something it was never supposed to be.”
I frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Mom looked away.
“I became afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Of you getting hurt. Of people taking advantage of you. Of you confusing friendship with love because Ethan was always there for you.”
I stared at her.
“You thought Ethan was going to hurt me?”
“No.”
She shook her head quickly.
“I was afraid the world would hurt him… and that eventually, you would be the one left carrying the pain.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Mom whispered:
“So I asked him to promise me that he would never pressure you into anything. That he would never ask you to marry him. That he would wait until you were old enough to decide what you wanted.”
I stared at her.
“But Mom… he never pressured me.”
“I know.”
She started crying.
“And that's when I realized I had misunderstood everything.”
I looked at the envelope again.
“What did he write?”
Mom nodded toward it.
“Read it.”
I opened the envelope.
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