When he finally turned around, the look on his face stopped my breath. It was guilt. Raw, crushing guilt. And something else… fear.
“There’s something I have to show you,” he whispered. “Something in the safe… that you need to read. Before we… before our first night as a married couple.”
My stomach dropped. “What are you talking about?”
His hands shook as he entered the code. The safe clicked open loudly in the quiet room.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and his voice cracked. “I should’ve told you sooner.”
He pulled out a plain white envelope, worn at the edges like it had been handled too many times. Inside was an old phone.
The screen was cracked. The battery was probably held together by prayers.
“What’s this?” I asked, my voice coming out smaller than I intended.
“My old phone.” He pressed the power button and waited for it to light up. “My daughter found it a few weeks ago. I hadn’t seen it in years. I charged it, and I found…”
He trailed off, opened the messages, and turned the screen toward me.
It was a conversation between him and Peter. From seven years ago. Before Peter died.
I watched as Dan scrolled up, showing me their back-and-forth. Typical guy stuff at first. Jokes about sports. Plans to grab beers. Then the conversation shifted. I could see Dan had been venting about something.
Dan: I don’t know, man. Sometimes I look at what you have, and I wonder if I’ll ever get that lucky. You and Isabel just work, you know?
Peter: You’ll find it. Just takes time.
Dan: Yeah, maybe. But seriously, you hit the jackpot with her. She’s amazing. You’re lucky, you know that?
And Peter’s response made my breath catch:
Peter: Don’t. Seriously. Don’t go there.
A pause. Then:
see you next post
