Willa’s adoptive parents, Louise and Nolan, met us together in their own living room. Louise looked visibly nervous. Nolan looked openly ashamed. After roughly ten minutes of strained, careful conversation, Louise went upstairs briefly. She returned carrying a plastic storage bin, setting it down directly in front of Callum.
“What is this?” he asked.
“Letters.”
She opened the lid. Envelopes filled the entire bin. Every single one carried Callum’s own name written across it. He picked one up carefully. The handwriting inside was distinctly childish. LUKE.
“She wrote back to me?” His whole face changed instantly.
“Yes. All this time, actually.”
Louise started crying. “Your letters came through directly to us first. At the very beginning, everyone genuinely believed limiting direct contact might help Willa settle in properly. She kept writing replies anyway, regardless.”
Callum stared hard into the box. “Then why didn’t I ever actually receive them?”
