When Abi’s mom was admitted to the hospital with sharp stomach pain and a burning fever, Abi thought her job was simple—be the supportive daughter. But then her mom asked her to do something so strange, it left Abi’s heart racing:
She told Abi to go home and burn a notebook.
It started one quiet evening.
Abi’s mom, Diana, leaned back on the couch, sweat forming on her forehead.
“Abigail,” she said weakly, “let me just take some painkillers and rest. If it doesn’t get any better, then we’ll go to the hospital. Okay?”
Abi nodded, even though worry gnawed at her chest. Her mom hated hospitals. So, Abi agreed—for now.
But later that night, Diana’s fever spiked, and her groans of pain filled the house.
“It’s time, Abi,” she gasped, clutching her stomach.
Abi’s heart pounded as she rushed her mother to the emergency room.
The doctor confirmed it almost immediately: “It’s appendicitis. I don’t know how you’ve been coping, Diana. We need to get you into surgery as soon as possible.”
Abi swallowed hard. “When will Mom have surgery?”
“Tomorrow morning,” the doctor said firmly. “We cannot put it off any longer.”
Abi stayed by her mother’s bedside that night, curled up in an armchair, watching over her as nurses set her up on an IV. She tried to rest, but her nerves kept her awake.
The next morning, as the nurses prepared Diana for surgery, Abi saw the fear in her mother’s eyes. She squeezed her hand.
“Mom, it’s going to be okay,” Abi said softly. “This is routine. They do it all the time.”
Her mom nodded, but her grip on Abi’s hand suddenly tightened. Her voice trembled as she whispered:
“Abi, listen to me. Don’t stay here. Don’t wait for me. Please, darling, go home and burn my notebook. It’s the black one by my bedside. If anything happens to me, Abi, I need that book gone.”
Abi froze. “Mom, what are you talking about? You’re going to be fine—it’s just appendicitis!”
“I know that,” Diana sighed, her eyes pleading. “But Abigail, I need you to promise me. Burn it. Don’t read it. Don’t even look inside. Just burn it. When I come out, I’ll explain. But for now—please, do as I say.”
Abi’s throat went dry, but she forced a smile. “Okay, Mom. I promise.”
Relief softened her mom’s face as the orderlies wheeled her away.
Abi stood in the corridor, her mind spinning. Burn her notebook? What could possibly be in it?
Her mom would be in surgery for hours, then recovery. Abi couldn’t shake the thought.
By the time she got into her car, she was already talking to herself: “What’s in that notebook? What secret is she hiding from me?”
At home, Abi went straight to her mom’s bedroom. There it was, just as described: a plain black leather notebook sitting beside charcoal pencils and fine liners.
Abi picked it up, her hands trembling. “Do I keep my promise and not open you?” she whispered. “Or do I find out what secrets you hold?”
Her curiosity won. She opened it.
The first page stole her breath away.
It was a sketch of her father—so lifelike, so full of emotion, that it felt like he was staring straight at her.
She turned the page. Another sketch. Then another. Her father’s face again and again—laughing, serious, thoughtful, tired. His eyes, his smile, his posture. Every page screamed with love.
“What on earth…” Abi muttered, her fingers trembling as she flipped through faster and faster.
At the very end, in small, careful handwriting, one line stood alone:
I loved you, Adam. Even when you didn’t love me back.
Abi sank onto the floor, the notebook heavy in her lap. “Wow…” she whispered.
Her chest ached. She understood now. This wasn’t just a notebook. It was her mother’s secret heart—a gallery of grief, love, and longing.
There was no way she could destroy it.
Abi clutched the notebook and drove back to the hospital.
When she arrived, her mom was pale and groggy in recovery, but alive. Abi sat beside her, holding her hand as her eyes fluttered open.
“Did you get to the book, Abi?” Diana whispered weakly.
Abi hesitated, then nodded. “I did. But Mom…I couldn’t burn it.”
Tears welled up in Diana’s eyes. For a moment, Abi thought she’d be angry. But instead, her mom gave a small, tired smile and squeezed her hand.
“It’s okay, darling,” she whispered. “I just didn’t want your father to find it if something happened to me. I didn’t want him to think I was…”
“Crazy? Pathetic? Sad?” Abi finished softly. “Momma, you’re not. You loved him. There’s nothing wrong with that. He’s the one who left us when he had that affair.”
Diana’s eyes closed again, her face pinched with both pain and relief.
Later, when she woke again, Abi whispered an apology. “I’m sorry I went through the book.”
Her mom smiled faintly. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I didn’t want you to see because I knew how much his betrayal hurt you too. That notebook was just my way of coping.”
Abi swallowed the lump in her throat. “Mom… those drawings are incredible. You captured him so perfectly. It felt like he was in the room with me.”
Her mother gave a weak chuckle. “I spent hours on those sketches. After he left, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I read that grief can be written out, but I couldn’t write it. I could only draw it. It didn’t take the pain away, but it helped.”
Abi brushed her mother’s hand gently. “It’s okay to hurt, Mom. You loved him since you were eighteen. That kind of love doesn’t just disappear.”
Diana’s eyes grew misty. “I was terrified that if I didn’t make it through surgery, Adam might somehow find that notebook. I couldn’t bear the thought of him knowing how much I still cared, even after everything.”
Abi leaned close. “Don’t worry. He’ll never know. When you’re strong again, you can decide what to do with it. Until then, it’s just our secret.”
Her mom smiled, finally at peace. “Thank you, sweetheart. That means more than you know.” Then she wrinkled her nose. “Now, can you get me some jello or something? I need this awful anesthetic taste out of my mouth.”
Abi laughed in relief. “Coming right up.”
As Abi walked down the hall, the notebook safe in her bag, her mind raced. She had always known her mom was strong, but now she saw just how deep her love and pain ran.
Her father had left both of them broken, but her mom had carried that heartbreak in silence, turning it into art no one was meant to see.
Now the secret was out, and instead of destroying it, Abi had chosen to protect it.
And maybe, just maybe, it was the start of healing—for both of them.