At that moment, the front door opened, and a woman with her hair pulled back and skin tanned by the sun stood there, carrying a simple cotton bag over her shoulder.
“Good afternoon, I am Rose, Katherine’s mother,” the woman said, her voice steady.
Grace felt an immediate, overwhelming sense of embarrassment and sorrow.
“Mrs. Rose, please, come in,” she said, not knowing whether to hug her or apologize.
The woman entered the house with a cautious grace, observing the lingering floral arrangements, the empty chairs, and the abandoned glasses from the wedding.
Then, she looked directly at Caleb.
“You are the man who married my daughter,” she said, her voice devoid of malice but filled with a quiet, steely strength.
Caleb walked toward her and, without waiting for permission, knelt down on the floor.
“Ma’am, please, you must forgive me, I know I deserve nothing, but I only need to see Katherine for a brief moment,” he pleaded.
“Not to ask her to come back, and not to pressure her, but just to tell her that I destroyed what she offered me and that I will live with the consequences,” he added.
Rose watched him for a long, silent moment.
“My daughter came home without her gown, without her jewelry, and without wanting to offer any explanation other than that loving someone is useless if they do not trust you,” she said.
Caleb began to weep, his tears falling onto the floorboards.
Rose pulled a small, folded note from her bag.
“She asked me to give this to you,” she said, handing it to Grace.
Grace recognized Katherine’s elegant, neat handwriting immediately.
She began to read it aloud, her voice trembling.
“Grace, I am sorry for leaving without saying a proper goodbye, but you were so kind to me when I needed to feel like I belonged to a family,” the letter began.
“I am not leaving with hatred, I am leaving with a deep, profound sadness, because I truly loved Caleb, perhaps too much,” the note continued.
“I thought that if I loved him patiently, I could heal a wound that was never even mine, but no one can ever heal within a lie,” she wrote.
“I do not blame Beatrice, and I do not blame anyone for being deceived, but it hurts that Caleb chose to punish me rather than ask for the truth,” it stated.
“A marriage that begins with fear can never become a home, so when my heart stops hurting, I will come back to visit you, and thank you for calling me your daughter, as that was the only real thing in this entire experience,” the letter concluded.
Grace could not finish reading without breaking down into sobs.
Robert wiped his eyes with the cuff of his shirt, and Beatrice wept silently.
Caleb remained on his knees, seemingly paralyzed by the weight of the words.
“Where is she staying?” Robert finally asked.
