They drove through steady rain to the old house. The porch still smelled of lilacs and damp wood. In the attic they found the cedar chest, tucked behind an old quilt frame. The key turned easily, the lock clicked, and the lid lifted with a sigh. Inside lay a bundle of letters tied with blue thread, waiting like something asleep.
The letters told a story no one in the family had ever heard. When Mia was a newborn, she needed blood. An anonymous nurse had stayed late, donated, and left behind a prayer on a small card. A photograph slipped from the stack and made their breath catch. The nurse was Evan’s mother, smiling, holding a tiny baby wrapped in a hospital blanket. Their paths had crossed years before they ever met. The grandmother had hidden the key so the truth would surface only when love was ready.