By Srinidhi Ranganathan in Artificial Intelligence — Sep 14, 2024

The Shadow of the Woman

A forgotten letter unearths hidden truths about a woman’s disappearance, leading to a shocking revelation that alters everything.

Letter:

May 17th, 1989

Dear Samuel,

It has taken me years—longer than I’d care to admit—to find the courage to write this. Even as I sit here in the dim light of this old room in Larkin’s Hollow, the same room where she once sat so often in silence, I hesitate. There are shadows everywhere. Not just those cast by the dying fire or the wilting curtains, but shadows of what we once were. Shadows of who she was.

You’ll remember the last time you saw her, of course. October 12th, 1987. How could you forget? She was wearing that silver pendant, the one I had given her the year before. I knew even then that something in her had shifted. I couldn’t place it, but there was a distance in her eyes, a kind of retreat. You noticed it too, didn’t you? The way she lingered just a moment longer before leaving, the way she looked back at us with... what was it? Guilt? Fear?

There’s no easy way to say this, but you deserve the truth. We all do, even if it comes too late.

Eliza didn’t disappear by accident that day. She didn’t vanish because of some random misfortune or an unfortunate twist of fate. I know this because... I was there. God, Samuel, I never meant for it to go that far. I swear I didn’t. It was supposed to be a conversation, a clearing of the air. But when I confronted her that evening by the cliffs, the tension between us was unbearable. You have to understand, she had been hiding something for months, and I could feel it tightening around us like a noose.

She told me everything in those final moments. She told me about you. About the nights you spent together in secret, about the plans you had been making to run away. I can still hear her voice shaking as she spoke, as though the words were bleeding out of her. And that’s when it happened.

I didn’t push her, Samuel.

But I didn’t stop her either.

She stood at the edge of the cliff, and for a split second, I thought she might step back. I thought we might be able to fix this shattered mess of our lives. But she didn’t. She leaned into the wind, as if the sea itself was calling her name. I reached for her too late, and in that fleeting moment, she was gone. The rocks below swallowed her whole, and the ocean kept her secret.

I’ve lived with the weight of this for so long, I can hardly breathe beneath it. Every time I look at you, I see the man who loved her—more than I ever could, perhaps—and the guilt wraps itself tighter around my throat.

I’ve stayed silent because I feared what it would do to you, to us. But I can’t keep living this lie. Not anymore.

The truth is, I loved her too, Samuel. I loved her in a way that twisted my insides and blinded me to what was right. I hated her for loving you. And I hated you for loving her back. But more than that, I hated myself for not being enough for either of you.

I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me, or if you’ll even believe what I’ve told you. But now, at least, you know the truth.

I’m leaving Larkin’s Hollow tonight. It’s time I let go of the shadows that haunt these walls. Time for you to let go too.

Yours in guilt and grief,
Michael

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