14 | S

HER FRIENDS HAD found peace and acceptance, but there were still three letters that had yet to be unmasked. They were tucked away safely in a corner of her white cabinet, not to be delivered but rather discovered upon search.

Only those who searched, would find the answers they so desperately craved.

An answer, a wish, a newfound hope.

Any of the three were a given possibility, but only for those who took the initiative to search.

Initially her father, in his own grieving state, couldn't bear stepping foot in his deceased daughter's without the feeling of being overwhelmed. The pain was too fresh, a band-aid he wasn't quite ready to rip off.

But eventually, he would. He would find the courage and the strength to finally enter her room. And when he did, 3 months later— the same time as Serena's friends were holding their own farewell— he found them.

Two letters, squeezed tightly in between the books on her shelf.

Two letters, to the people who had raised her for seventeen years.

***

SERENA'S MOTHER BLEW loudly into her handkerchief, the abrupt noise echoing and disrupting the otherwise still atmosphere of the household. Her nose was always a sight to be seen these days, raw-red in colour and paired with swollen eyes, a result of constant crying.

The once confident, snarky woman was light years away from the one she was now.

Rubbing her eyes at the glaring red digits of the clock, she sighed to herself.

12pm.

Half the day had already gone by, time wasted when she should've been up and about, replying to emails and answering calls that seemed infiniteless—the way she used to enjoy her life. The things she used to look forward to.

Not anymore, though.

Collapsing back against the pillows, Julianna Wilson sighed.

Since Serena's death, she had all but confessed to Robert— Serena's father— about her infidelity. He hadn't wasted a second before sending her divorce papers on behalf of their lawyer, the action too quick to have been done on a whim ; the bastard had been lying in wait, for a perfect opportunity to divorce her.

Not that that made a difference.

The papers were still neatly stacked atop her desk, all but collecting dust.

She knew that there was no salvaging of their marriage, not that Julianna Wilson— sorry, Baxter now that she was a soon-to-be divorcee— minded. Her and Robert's marriage had long since been on a rocky stage, no amount of counselling could resolve the bitter animosity that lurked between them.

She would sign it. Soon. There was no doubt about it.

Just... after she had a shower. And after she had eaten. And washed her face. After a lot of things, actually.

The once-esteemed woman who prided herself on her work, prided herself on being the best of the best, the woman who was the literal personification of the adjective perfection, the woman who had imposed the strictest restrictions and rules on her only daughter, the woman that was more tyrannical dictator rather than a actual mother had all but evaporated since the death of Serena.

She had retracted into a shell of the person she had once been. Loud demanding footsteps reduced to soft ones, always walking with a hunchback and bleary eyes that never seemed to be able to focus. And there was also the factor that she hadn't changed clothes in approximately 3 days but hey, who was keeping track right?

The divorce papers were a miniscule problem atop a mountain of others. Julianna Baxter knew she had to get to them eventually, but hell if she had the energy to do so. Nothing that she did didn't remind her of Serena. Everywhere she went, she found traces of her daughter lingering.

And there was nothing she could do to bring back her daughter.

Julianna wished with all her might that she could've. There were so many things she wanted to say, so many regrets she had, sins to confess— but they were all confessions done too late.

Serena was dead, and there was no easy fix for a death.

A harsh rapping on her door brought Julianna out of her reverie. Sighing she hoisted herself off the bed , slipping on a bathrobe to cover up her disheveled appearance as she coughed out a hasty "Come in."

Her husband— soon to be ex-husband— walked into the room with a grim expression, dropping a piece of paper onto her bedside table.

"Serena's letter. For you."

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, unable to make coherent sense of his statement.

"Serena wrote me a letter?"

"She wrote the both of us letters," he explained, the much-needed context clearing her earlier confusion. "They're goodbye letters."

Their eyes met briefly, the exchange barely lasting 10 seconds yet Julianna saw the effect of their daughter's death clearer than ever. She wasn't the only one affected. Layers of dark circles crinkled together underneath Robert's eyes, his lustrous black hair had become duller, with bits of white starting to peek their way through.

He sighed, combing his fingers through his hair. Robert wasn't in the mood for conversation, much less with her.

"Look Julianna, just...just sign the papers. The quicker you do, the quicker we can both go our separate ways."

He spun on his heels, hand on the doorknob before hesitating. Without turning to face her, he spoke, voice void of emotion, "Serena wouldn't have wanted to see you this way."

Twisting the doorknob, he exited, the door closing softly behind him. The impact of his words were like glass shards in the sand, silently piercing through to Julianna with startling clarity.

He was right. For the first time in a long time, Julianna could admit that. She could admit defeat.

She needed a shower. A shower to process her thoughts.

Wrapping her bathrobe tighter around herself, she made her way towards her ensuite bathroom.

Her first bath in over a week.

She would receive the house. That was one of the terms her eyes couldn't avoid skimming past given it had been explicitly stated on the front page when the divorce papers had arrived in a neat bundle. Julianna didn't know if it was because the thought of her infidelity disturbed him that much or because he was mocking her. Mocking that she had to continue living in the house that she died in, walk past her bedroom everyday.

Turning the knob on the showerhead, a blast of water hit the floor almost instantly. Julianna waited patiently, hands clasped tightly around her robe, as the ice-cold water slowly progressed into a more acceptable lukewarm temperature.

Once she deemed it acceptable, she hung up her bathrobe at the back of the door and hopped in.

Her and Robert's marriage ; a once beautiful marriage, deteriorated into shambles. Faded into dust, once honey-infused kisses turned poison-filled glares. Maybe it would've worked if they both had put effort. If they both hadn't prioritised their work over each other. A pernicious affect no one warned of workaholics

Serena's death ; the pills that weren't meant to ever fall into Serena's hands, the pills that were never meant to be given unless clinically prescribed.

Her roles in her death ; maybe she shouldn't have been such a push-over. Maybe she should have let Serena enjoy life a bit more or realised the warning signs earlier.

Maybe. So many maybe's. So many possibilities.

What if I had been more caring? What if I had seen the signs?

A medley of thoughts, Julianna Baxter took a deep breath. Inhale. Allowing the cooling sensation to spread throughout her body, exhale.

There was no longer such a possibility. One could never revive the dead.

To get out, she needed to move on.

One by one, she would sort out her thoughts.

Step by step, she would grow stronger

Bit by bit, slowly but surely, she would find peace.

And as Julianna Baxter stepped out of the shower that fateful day, it was with resolve.

One might wonder why she hadn't shed any tears, after all, wasn't that something that one would do when overwhelmed? Well, here's the thing ; Julianna hadn't shed any tears in the bathroom because she had no tears left to shed.

Crying wouldn't do her any more good. Julianna Baxter realised she could not remain in this position.

It was time.

To help herself.

***

IT WASN'T ALWAYS like this. There was a time when Robert, Julianna and Serena were the happiest family on earth.

When the house wasn't filled with shouts of anger or sounds of breaking objects. There was a time when the house was filled with laughter and tears that were gotten from laughing too hard. Most of all, there was a time when they were a family.

But those times didn't last forever.

As everyone aged in years, everything changed.

It wasn't any person specifically, it was merely... change. It was something natural, expected because no one could remain as the same person forever. There was growth, evolution of the species and yet sometimes, change wasn't always for the better.

Julianna stopped in front of her office, the mahogany-coloured door looming like a shadow in front of her.

Gathering all her strength, she pushed open the door, nostrils instantly overtaken by the familiar strong scent of cinnamon infused roses. A picture was situated at her desk, of her daughter.

Julianna hadn't been the kindest to her daughter, but she had loved her— in her own, manipulative way. Part of the reason she had pushed her so hard was because Julianna had seen so much of the same potential in Serena, she didn't want Serena to go down the same path she had. The path that had left her with so many regrets.

Never in a million years, could she have foreseen that Serena would choose to take her own life because of it. Her eyes watered at the memory of discovering her daughter's lifeless body, the way she felt as light as a feather, vivid white-coloured foam at her mouth and the sheer utter blankness she felt as the paramedics covered a white sheet over her. They didn't even bother to bring her to the hospital; instantly pronouncing her dead on the scene.

At that moment, she felt her life shatter before her.

As she felt tears welding up, she scolded herself.

"Pull yourself together Julianna," she scolded as she shook her mind clear. She couldn't afford reminiscing of unhappy memories, she had something to accomplish today, one job to do.

***

"RING UP ROBERT," she silently applauded herself for keeping her voice steady. "The papers are ready for collection."

Those were the words she spoke to her secretary whose tone of surprise almost caused a smile to break out on her face. Almost.

It seemed like eons passed before a knock sounded at her door and Robert entered, his stance grim and prosaic.

"They're here," Julianna pushed forward a stack of papers, all neatly assembled into a lengthy pile. "I have no qualms about the terms in the document."

Robert stepped forward ; a bitter smile on both their parts.

"So, I guess, it's done."

"I'm sorry," Julianna apologised, her tone sincere as she handed the papers over to her now officially ex-husband.

Eyes morose, he turned to her, expression full of words that neither of them were quite capable of expressing. It was okay, though. They both knew each other well enough to know what the other meant.

Divorce seemed so easy — until it wasn't. People were always quick to sign divorces, quick to rid themselves of the unhappiness they felt, not realising that it means never being succinctly able to fill the void in the background.

You couldn't fill in the void. It just wasn't the same.

Julianna and Robert may have had a bad couple of years but they had been married for over a decade, and had known each other for even longer before that. Years of memories were lost between the both of them.

That wasn't something you could easily erase.

It wasn't something you could just push to the back of your mind and forget.

That was something Julianna and Robert both knew before signing the divorce. They had been holding off— for Serena's sake.

"Me too." he replied quietly, "I wish you nothing but the best from here on out, Julianna."

Robert and Julianna had fallen out of love a long time ago, but at the end of the day, both of them had lost a daughter.

Someday, they would learn to move on.

At Robert's exit and the sound of the door closing behind him, Julianna sighed as she flipped over the letter in her hand that she had carried with her when entering her office.

There were numerous possibilities held in the letter, none of which sounded particularly appealing to Julianna.

It was a difficult decision but as Julianna tucked the letter away into the depths of her drawer, she knew it was a ethically-grey decision.

Call her a coward, but she couldn't do it. Not yet.

One day. One day, Julianna Baxter would find the strength within herself to read the last words from her daughter, but until that day, time would continue as it was.

***

HEAVING A SIGH, Robert Wilson looked down at the letter that his deceased daughter had written him. When he had read it, he had discovered something else— another letter. Inside his letter, there had been a strip of paper.

It was small, the size of a postcard. With words written on the back of it and instructions on where it was to be published.

It was a dedication to the public. Serena wanted him to publish it in The Daily Edits.

Dialing a number, he waited, phone on his shoulder as his eyes skimmed past the words his daughter wrote.

DEAR DAD,

Hey. I'm here to thank you. Your letter won't be full of melodramatic sentences of a recapturement of my life but instead— it's a thank you letter.

Because you raised me for seventeen years, and you've stuck with me through thick and thin— I think this is hella deserved, don't you?

Thank you, for being there for me.

For all those times I fell down, you picked me up.

For all those times you thought I was sad, you treated me to ice-cream. Not once did you make me feel as if I wasn't worth the world.

Thank you, for helping me.

You sent me to those therapy classes when you realised my suicidal tendencies

You agreed to hide it from mom, knowing that she would more than likely vehemently protest against you.

Thank you, for everything.

You mean the world to me. Always.

Thank you dad, I love you so much.

Nothing was your fault. I'm sorry I couldn't be better.

Please, post this miniature letter in the Daily Mail. It's something I want the world to see. Something the world to know.

I couldn't save myself, but maybe I can save others.

LOVE,

Sereny Wilson

"Hello?"

"Eddie? It's Robert. I need a favour."