✓1.0 | Letters From Serena

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?