Inside the box lay a thin envelope, a small brass key on a faded ribbon, and our two bandage rings, carefully dried and pressed flat. My hands shook as I unfolded the letter. “Dear Dr. Adrian,” it began, in Naomi’s looping handwriting. “If you are reading this, I am already gone, and I am sorry I teased you right to the end. I have one more thing to confess, and it is the reason I wanted to marry you.” I had to sit down on the curb.

Her sister, Kayla, stood beside me wiping her eyes. “Keep reading,” she whispered. “She wrote it over three nights.” The next line made my chest tighten: “The key opens a safe deposit box at Harbor Trust Bank. Please go there before you do anything else, and take Kayla with you.” I looked up, and Kayla nodded, a small, wet smile on her face.