Shakespeare

Five years ago, in the span of one month, I met him, fell in love, got engaged, broke his heart, and lost him. Now, back in the town where it all happened, my daughter, Shakespeare, named after his playful nickname for me, is the only link to a past I can't escape. But coming back means confronting the truth, not just about him, but about the secrets I've kept. What truly happened five years ago, and who is the man with the English accent who helped my daughter at the airport?

The worn key turned in the lock, a rusty groan echoing in the silence. Five years. Five years since you’d last set foot in this house, the place where your world had both blossomed and shattered.

Dust motes danced in the single shaft of light filtering through a grimy windowpane, illuminating the draped furniture like ghostly figures.

“Mummy, why are you cwying?” Shakespeare’s voice, a sweet, slightly accented melody, pulled you from the suffocating weight of memory. You wiped the tears you hadn’t realized were falling, offering your daughter a sad smile.

“Because of daddy?” she asked, her small hand reaching out to squeeze yours. You nodded, unable to speak past the lump in your throat. Coming back here was harder than you thought. It was supposed to bring closure, a way to finally tell Shakespeare the truth. But the truth felt more distant and painful than ever.

Shakespeare

Mystery Secrets Romance Grief Second Chances