He Died Calling Me His Sister—Then I Opened the Letter That Changed Everything (2 of 5)

“Lily,” she said softly. “He wanted you to have this.”

It was an envelope. My name in Eric’s handwriting.

“When?” I asked.

“After everything,” she said, eyes red and tired.

I took it, hands trembling. I didn’t open it. Couldn’t. I just drove home, the envelope in my lap like it might explode.

Eric had never been the affectionate kind. No big hugs, no long calls. But he showed up. Always. Quiet, steady. At my graduation. When I was sick. When I needed him. He was there. Watching from the sidelines.

I sat at my kitchen table, the letter between my fingers. Then—I opened it.

My dearest Lily,
If you’re reading this, I’m gone. And I never found the courage to say this in person. I’m sorry for that.
Lily… I’m not your brother. I’m your father.

The world tilted. My heart stopped. I read on.

I was just a kid. She was scared. My parents offered to raise you as their own. I agreed, thinking it would protect you. But I never stopped being your dad—not for a single day.

Tears streamed down my face. The pages shook in my hands.