With trembling hands, Ethan picked up the wedding ring and the letter. The act of opening a letter was so simple, but his hands kept trembling as if he had Parkinson's.

Brent said in a low voice, "Mr. Miller, let me do it."

It didn't matter that much whether he read the letter or not. Everyone had already guessed the ending.

Still, Ethan took out the letter in terror and agony. The familiar handwriting came into sight.

In the past, she would write him letters in secret when he was out on business trips. She didn't know the address, so she would put the words she wanted to say into a bottle and then bury it in the garden.

After he discovered it by accident, every time he came back, the first thing he would do was to go to that secret hole and dig around to check if there was new mail.

Back then, she wrote like an adorable teenage girl. But this letter was different. Not many words were written on it, but every stroke conveyed farewell.

"Ethan, it's too painful to live. I don't wa