A letter to the post man

The story Diana told me struck me to the core.

She wasn't the monster I had always thought her to be. Beneath the surface, she was kind—broken perhaps, but not cruel. Still, I couldn't help but pity my mother for being the woman caught between them. It wasn't fair. Society would blame Diana, of course. Women like her were always cast as villains in stories like ours.

Yet, there was something in her eyes that hinted at a deeper pain, a truth she wasn't ready to share. I saw the way her hands trembled when she spoke and how her voice wavered as though she was holding something back. But I couldn't bring myself to push her.

"It's getting late, dear. Go to bed," Diana said softly, placing a hand on my shoulder.

Tomorrow was a big day for Geynie. Diana wanted me to have a good rest and wake up bright and refreshed. Her concern felt genuine, and it unsettled me. Why did she care so much? Why now?

She leaned down, kissed my forehead, and smiled before walking away.

I checked my phone. It was already late—just a few minutes to midnight. As I stood there, alone in the dim hallway, I wondered what my father made of all this. He had kept his distance tonight, as though he sensed the moment between Diana and me wasn't one to interrupt.

As I turned to head back to my room, a flicker of movement caught my eye. A shadow slipped through the corridor and disappeared into the darkness outside.

A blonde woman.

I froze. My breath caught in my throat.

Was it… my mom?

No. That was impossible. I didn't believe in ghosts. But the resemblance—the blonde hair, the way she moved—it was uncanny.

My curiosity got the better of me. I followed the shadow as it vanished into the night. My footsteps were slow, hesitant, but determined. The cool night air brushed against my skin as I stepped outside, scanning the area for any trace of her.

Nothing.

I stood there for a moment, feeling foolish. Maybe I had imagined it. But something in my gut told me otherwise. Doubts began to creep in. Could it have been Geynie?

I needed to be sure.

I crept back inside, my steps silent as I made my way to her room. The door creaked as I pushed it open, and I peeked inside. Geynie lay fast asleep, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

How could this be?

Who was the woman, then?

The questions swirled in my mind as I walked back to my room. My head was heavy with thoughts, my heart weighed down by the mystery. I had to help Damian, but how? How could I find him and tell him everything I'd been seeing without sounding crazy?

Sleep eventually overtook me, pulling me into a restless slumber.

And once again, I dreamt of Diana.

Her voice was clearer this time, raw with anguish.

"Father, please don't take her away! Please don't take her from me!"

I jolted awake, my body drenched in sweat. The dream lingered, her desperate cries echoing in my ears.

Who was she talking about? Who was the person she didn't want to lose?

It couldn't be a coincidence.

I got out of bed, my mind still reeling, and went straight to brush my teeth. As I stood under the shower, letting the warm water wash over me, I tried to piece everything together. But the more I thought about it, the more tangled it all seemed.

A loud knock on the door startled me.

"Sis! Look at the dress Father got you!" Archie's excited voice rang out.

I stepped out of the bathroom and opened the door. Archie was beaming, holding up a shimmering red dress.

"It's prettier than the one he got for Geynie," she said proudly.

I stared at the dress, my heart skipping a beat. The fabric, the design—it looked eerily similar to one of my mother's old dresses. Memories came flooding back, vivid and bittersweet.

"She used to wear dresses like this to Father's parties," I murmured, my voice distant.

Archie nodded, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me. "Get ready! There's so much to do today."

I forced a smile and nodded, sending him off to prepare. But I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling.

I decided to check on Geynie, as Diana had asked me to. I didn't want to disappoint her, not after the kindness she had shown me.

When I reached Geynie's room, I pushed the door open slowly, careful not to startle her.

She turned sharply, her face pale with shock. Her hands moved quickly, slamming her wardrobe shut.

"What do you want?" she snapped, her voice harsh and defensive.

"I just came to help," I said, trying to keep my tone calm.

"Well, as you can see, I don't need your help," she retorted, grabbing my arm and pushing me toward the door.

But as she shoved me out, something caught my eye. A strand of blonde hair peeked out from the edge of her wardrobe.

My heart pounded.

It was her.

It had been Geynie all along.

I couldn't believe it. The truth was staring me in the face, but I needed proof. I couldn't confront her without evidence.

As I walked back to my room, my mind raced with possibilities. What was she hiding?

One thing was certain—I had to uncover the truth