After the divorce, I was about to throw away my ex-wife’s old pillow—until I found what she had hidden inside and broke down in tears, finally understanding why she let me go.

I hope that by now, you’re happy.”

Tears blurred the ink.

Page by page, a life I never tried to understand unfolded in front of me.

He wrote everything.

The nausea after chemotherapy.
The hair falling out, hidden beneath a bonnet.
The nights he cried silently in the bathroom so I wouldn’t hear.

“I don’t want him to see me weak.

Mark already has his battles—the studio, the debts, the dream of becoming someone.”

One page was wrinkled with tear stains.

“If I ask for help, it will only break him.”

“So I have to be strong. Even alone.”