My uncle raised me after I lost my parents. I thought he had told me everything that mattered. Then, days after saying goodbye to him, I opened a

She shook her head. “You read it, beta. Then call me.”

My name was on the envelope in his blunt handwriting.

My hands shook as I opened it.

Several pages slid into my lap.

The first line said: “Hannah, I’ve been lying to you your whole life. I can’t take this with me.”

He wrote about the night of the crash. Not the version I knew.

My chest tightened.