hear him coming after her, but she slammed the door closed and locked it, sliding against the door to her knees. Jamie couldn’t help the tears that rained from her face. They had been bottled up since that first night, and she seemed to cry for hours and hours.
Later, after pouring her heart and soul into every single tear that fell from her face, there was a knock on the door. At first, she paused. Backing away from her door, she watched as it opened and had to force herself to get to her feet. When he saw her, he paused at the threshold of the door.
She swallowed and sat on the bed, keeping her head down. The bed dipped when he sat down on it, and he cleared his throat awkwardly.
“I think it’s time I show you something.”
Jamie looked at him from the corner of her eyes, but kept her head down. Her face was no doubt a mess, and she had never been a pretty crier. She took a breath and wiped her cheeks. “Show me what?” Even to her own ears, her voice was hoarse. She winced.
Zyn was silent as he held out his hand, unfolding his fingers in front of her view. In them, a scrap of paper was crumpled and almost brown, and under that was a small sepia picture. She swallowed, looking up at him for permission. “Go ahead,” he said, voice choked.
Jamie took the crumpled paper and the picture, hands shaking. In the photo was a baby with a patch of hair as dark as oil, and eyes as blue as the sky. Her heart stopped beating as she stared at it. “This is... who is this?” she asked, high-pitched voice making even her wince.
“That’s my daughter.”
She choked, bringing the picture closer to her face. She had seen this exact same picture in her mother’s purse, a long time ago. Jamie had always assumed it was her, but Zyn was saying this was his daughter, so it couldn’t be...
“Read the letter,” he told her, taking the picture. She stared at it still, even as his hands closed over it gently, as if the picture was as fragile as the baby it depicted. Hands shaking, numb, feeling like she was going to puke, Jamie opened up the latter as carefully as she could.
Dear Sin,
I’m sorry to have kept this from you as long as I have, but my conscience is getting the better of me. I do not know how to say this to you outright, and therefore I have written this letter. My husband will never know what we did, or even that that night existed. Please understand that while I write this, my heart is heavy because of what I will do to you...and the baby that you gave me. I’m begging you to leave us alone, to not come after us as I know any worthy man would. My husband would kill me, and the baby. If he ever found out, she would be damned and as would you.
The picture attached to this letter is yours for the keeping. I have a matching one, and should you ever need another, I will willingly give you mine. Please, for the safety of Jamie, leave us alone. Do not watch her, do not come after her. She is only a baby and will grow up to be a beautiful young woman. I cannot risk her future by allowing her to have communications with you.
When she is of age, I will not stop her from seeing you, but I will also not tell her who her real father is.
I hope that you understand and wish the best for Jamie.
Sincerely, Ms. Saxton.
“She... She spelt your name wrong...”
It was the only thing Jamie could say, could get out. Her throat was closed so tight, filled with tears, that it was all she could do to breathe.
The penmanship was definitely her mother's. It was elegant and refined, small and barely readable. The paper was a soft pink, from her mother’s ancient stationary that she insisted on using for every letter written. If she brought it to her nose, she swore it would be like walking into her mother’s room, even after all of these years.
“I never told her how to spell it,” he murmured. She could feel his eyes on her, watching her. Jamie looked at him, eyes wide and confused, watery. Desperate.
And then her head started shaking. “You aren’t...”
“Jamie, the only reason I didn’t come for