“They’re letters your mother wrote to me while I was working in Rio,” he explained softly. “Before you girls were born.”
My sister looked confused.
“Why keep them hidden?”
My father smiled sadly.
“They weren’t hidden. They were… saved.”
Larissa slowly walked closer.
“You still love her,” she said gently.
It wasn’t an accusation.
It was a realization.
My father looked up at her with tired eyes.