Beneath the photographs were letters, written in Héctor’s familiar handwriting. I unfolded the first one, my eyes scanning the words. It was dated a few months after our wedding. In it, Héctor had poured out his heart, expressing his fears and insecurities about marriage, about not being the husband he thought I deserved. He had written about his struggles with expressing affection and his fear of being vulnerable. Each letter was a window into his soul, revealing a side of him I had never truly seen.

I sat back, the weight of the box in my hands as I absorbed the revelations contained within. The pillow had been more than a comfort object; it had been a silent repository of Héctor’s feelings, hidden away for years. It struck me how little we sometimes understand about the people closest to us, and how deeply fears and insecurities can shape relationships.