Chapter 6 #2
Mom always said she didn’t have any pictures of him. She claimed he hated cameras, and that since they never married, there were no engagement shots. No wedding photos.
Clearly, that was a lie.
But what really surprises me is how normal he looks. How… happy. He doesn’t look like someone who’d abandon the woman he supposedly loved or their two baby girls.
I flip the photo over. Scrawled on the back is his full name—Sonar Delios—and a date around seventeen years ago. The picture must have been taken right before he left.
A weird flutter rises in my chest. After all these years, I finally know my father’s last name. Mom would never tell us. I think she was always too afraid we’d try to find him—or worse, try to find his family.
Delios.
It sounds Greek. Does that mean I’m part Greek too?
I can’t wait to tell Hayes. He’s going to love this.
Beneath the photo is a slim stack of letters, bound with a gold ribbon. Each one is written in my mother’s hand and addressed to my father. No stamps. No return address.
They were never sent.
I open the first one carefully. The paper is soft and yellowed at the edges, the date marked just a few months after Amber was born. My stomach twists as I begin to read.
My Dearest Sonar,
I know there’s nowhere to send these letters, but I needed to write you anyway. Maybe somehow, wherever you are, you’ll feel the words. I miss you. Every single day.
More than anything, I wish you could see our girls.
Alysander and Ambrosia are happy and healthy.
They grow bigger, and bolder, by the day.
Alysander is already stringing together sentences and little Ambrosia has started crawling.
They have your spark. They’re so special, just like you said they’d be.
You’d be proud.
But, my love, it’s been nearly a year since you left, returning home to that awful place I still can’t bring myself to name out loud.
You told me to watch for the signs. And to be careful.
I’ve made the girls their amulets, like you instructed.
Kept the protection stones under their pillows.
I’ve stayed alert for hellhounds… for Watchers… for any Olympian emissaries.
But there’s nothing.
I can’t help but wonder if it’s safe now. If maybe it’s time for you to come back to us.
I hate the thought of you trapped there all alone, sacrificing your life for us, if the danger has passed. I know you believe this is the only way to keep us safe, but… what if it isn’t true?
Please, Sonar. Come home. Our daughters need you. I need you.
Yours forever,
Mel
I continue on to the next letter, reading with a growing mixture of fascination and horror. This one is dated a few years later.
My Dearest Sonar,
Today, I had a birthday party for the girls. Alysander turned five and Ambrosia is now four. When it was time to make a wish, Alysander turned to me and asked for you to come home.
It nearly broke my heart.
She looks just like you. Beautiful pale skin. Hair dark as a raven’s wing. I wish I could tell her where her daddy really is, and why he can’t come back. Of your bravery. Of the sacrifices you’ve made for us.
Except… well… I still don’t understand it all myself.
I love you so much.
I want to trust you.
But why haven’t you returned yet?
You told me you were one of the great Titan gods. That nothing could keep you away from our family once it was safe. But it’s been years now, my love.
We are safe.
So where are you?
Yours forever,
Mel
My hands shake as I open the last letter. This one is dated eleven years ago.
My Dearest Sonar,
I am afraid.
Something terrible has happened.
Yesterday, the girls and I were out for a picnic at the beach. I know you always warned me not to go out after dark, but it’s been so long. I almost forgot about the Underworld and those who wish to harm our family.
I heard the sound as the sun was setting. It was a howl so low and eerie, it sent shivers through my bones. It was like nothing I’d ever heard before, like it came from the very bowels of Hell.
It was the hellhounds.
You would’ve been proud of me. I didn’t panic. I scooped up Ambrosia, grabbed Alysander’s hand, and ran.
I could hear the pounding of paws behind us, monstrous, fast, closing in. I was so sure it would catch us. I thought it was all over. And then… I heard a squeal. A horrible sound I’ll never forget. Like bones snapping.
And then… silence.
I didn’t dare look back.
I still don’t know what happened or how we escaped alive. I just got the girls in the car and drove away as fast as I could.
I’m so sorry I ever doubted you.
I believe, Sonar.
I believe EVERYTHING now.
Yours forever,
Mel
I lower the letter, my palms clammy and hot. I’m in a state of shock, not sure how to react or what to think.
The letters were written years ago, when my mother was still deep in the throes of grief, still grappling with the heartbreak of my father leaving.
It would be easy to justify them as the wild ramblings of a broken woman.
Something she wrote late at night after a bottle of wine, before crying herself to sleep.
Her way of trying to make sense of why the love of her life walked out on her and her children.
Yes, that has to be it.
Because the alternative?
That my mother actually believes what she wrote in those letters? That she really thinks my father is some kind of ancient god, and that our family is in danger from monsters from another world?
That’s… insane.
I’m still sitting cross-legged in her closet, reeling, when I hear the front door open.
I jump up and scramble to rewrap the letters, shoving them back inside the folder and burying it deep in the bin like it might catch fire. There’s no way I can let my mother know I found them. She’d be mortified I read her love letters and furious I invaded her privacy.
And my sister?
Even if we were on speaking terms right now, she’s the last person I’d share the letters with.
There’s no version of reality where she could handle any of this.
Amber’s all rose-colored glasses and rom-coms and butterflies.
She’s not built for real-world problems, let alone grief, depression, or, god forbid, serious mental illness.
No. This is my secret now to bear.
I creep back into my room and collapse onto my futon, heart thudding, mind still racing. Maybe I can’t tell my mother or Amber about this, but I don’t think I can hold it in all alone. It’s too big… too heavy. I need to tell someone. Someone who won’t think I’ve lost my damn mind.
Luckily, there’s one person I can always trust with anything.
Even this.
And I know exactly where to find him.