Claire told me the truth Sam had never shared. He cried every night after everyone else had gone to sleep. He believed that if he showed his grief, it would destroy me, that one of us had to remain standing. His silence was not absence, and his calm was not forgetfulness. It was fear and love tangled together, a belief that strength meant enduring pain alone.
I collapsed onto the floor, clutching those letters, understanding too late what his quiet had truly meant. The man I had resented for years had been grieving in his own way, just as deeply, just as endlessly. I learned that some people do not express pain through tears or words. They survive through silence. And sometimes, the ones who appear the strongest are the ones breaking most completely inside.
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