Luke tried to make every birthday the best day he could for Sasha. It wasn’t easy after her mother’s passing, but he did his best to keep distract her from who was missing. It never worked. Every birthday ended the same: with a letter.

One letter from Sarah for every year her daughter grew up without her. A handwritten expression of love, grief, pride and hopes. Who she imagined her daughter would be at this age, age-appropriate advice, and stories from the few years they’d had together.

It didn’t matter if they were surrounded by friends and relatives, out all day or even on a holiday, Sasha would get her letter. She used to ask Luke to read it to her when she was too young, and she still passed the sealed envelope to him as part of the tradition.

Every year, Luke forced his voice to stop shaking as he read. He tried not cry at details only Sarah knew about their lives together. He read it loudly in order to drown out Sarah’s narration in his mind, the letter perfectly matching her mannerisms.

Luke dreaded the day Sasha moved out and spent a birthday without him there to read it to her. He had an equal fear that she would sooner find out how her mother had died.

It had been sudden and unexpected. It had left Sarah no way to say goodbye to her husband and young child.

But every year, the letter appeared under Sasha’s pillow.