Elena opened the envelope four days later.
She did it alone, sitting cross-legged on the edge of Maya's bed while her stepsister chopped vegetables in the kitchen, humming off-key to an old song playing on the radio. The paper inside was thick, clean, deliberate—brochures, application forms, a handwritten checklist in Daniel's neat, architectural handwriting.
Every detail was there.
Deadlines. Transcripts needed. Visa requirements. Scholarship links. Housing options in Sorellia. He'd even circled programs in applied mathematics and data systems with notes in the margins:
"Talk to Dr. Avelin—Diana spoke highly of him."
"This one has a fall start and strong female mentorship."
"Don't worry about the costs. Seriously."
Elena folded the papers back together and placed them in her drawer.
She didn't mention them to Maya for another week.
Maya was the kind of person who didn't ask unless you invited her in.
But one night, as they ate takeout from paper cartons on the couch, she said, quietly, "So. Are you going to tell me what the envelope was about?"
Elena blinked. "You saw that?"
"Girl, you've been moving around the apartment like you're on a minefield. I saw."
Elena set down her fork. "It's… an offer. From Daniel. Diana's boyfriend. He wants to sponsor me for grad school."
"Wow," Maya said. "That's… generous."
"It is. But it's weird, right?"
Maya didn't answer immediately.
"Weird doesn't mean wrong," she said finally. "Sometimes people do kind things for no reason. Sometimes they don't. The real question is—what do you want?"
Elena hesitated.
"I want to say yes. But I'm scared. What if people think I'm being... naïve? What if he expects something later? What if it's not as simple as it looks?"
Maya took a long sip of her drink. "Here's the thing. You've been through hell. You've earned the right to question good things. But don't let fear make your decisions for you."
"So you'd go?"
"I'd go," Maya said. "But you're not me."
That night, Elena couldn't sleep.
She sat on her bedroom floor, surrounded by candlelight and fragments of memory. Her mother's old necklace glinted from her desk. The silver box Diana had given her sat unopened beside it.
She reached for it.
Inside, tucked beneath the shell pendant, was a folded piece of stationery. It wasn't labeled. It had no title. But the handwriting was unmistakably Diana's.
She unfolded it with trembling hands.
Elena,
If you're reading this, I'm probably no longer around. And that sucks. I wanted to see you become everything you were meant to be. But if this world doesn't let me, then let this letter try.
You are not a charity case. You are not a lost girl. You are a woman becoming.
And I hope, with all I have left, that you take whatever is offered to help you grow. Whether it comes in the form of a friend, a job, or even a man you barely know. I wouldn't have loved him if I didn't think he was good. And I wouldn't have let him into your life unless I believed he'd never take advantage of it.
I trust you to decide.
But I want you to remember: you are allowed to have more.
With love always,
Diana
The next morning, Elena wrote three emails.
One to Daniel:
I'm ready to talk next steps.
One to her boss:
I'll be resigning effective the end of the month.
And one to herself—just a single sentence, saved in her drafts:
I don't know what the future holds, but I'm walking toward it anyway.