When Layla’s husband’s grandmother dies, a buried chest and a final confession unravel everything she thought she knew about the man she married. As secrets surface, Layla must choose between protecting the past or telling the truth, for the sake of her daughters and herself.
I always knew Eleanor had secrets.
Not this.
Not what I found buried under the apple tree.
It was definitely not the kind of secret that makes you question who you married, and what you let into your home, into your bed, and into your children’s lives.
My husband’s parents had died when he was little, and his grandmother Eleanor, raised him in the creaky old house we eventually moved into.
That house smelled like lavender and wood polish and felt like a place where nothing shocking could happen.
The night Eleanor died, she asked me to dig up something she’d buried under the old apple tree.
I didn’t ask questions, of course. I just nodded and helped her into bed.
She looked at me one last time, eyes glassy but fierce, and said: “You’ll understand one day, Layla. Just promise me you’ll look under the tree.”
I promised.
What else could I do?
Eleanor passed quietly the following morning.
When I offered to go with him, he just shook his head.
The morning after he left, I stepped out into Eleanor’s garden with a shovel and a quiet ache in my chest. The apple tree stood crooked at the edge of the yard, its branches twisted together like they were hiding something.
I dug.
Then I dug deeper.
An hour passed.
My arms ached, my back screamed, and my knees were about to give out when…
“Oh, Eleanor. What’s in here?” I muttered to myself.
I dropped to my knees, my heart pounding. The chest was rusted but intact.
I hesitated, then opened it.
Inside were folders, faded and creased. I pulled out the top sheet: Caleb’s birth certificate… but with a different last name.
Then there were guardianship papers and emergency placement documents.
I read through each page until I read a line that made my mouth go dry. “Suspected abandonment.”
