CHAPTER 20

 

Chapter 20

 

Lisa descended the grand staircase of Graceland, her steps cushioned by the thick, socks that barely made a sound against the carpeted stairs. The mansion was still, eerily quiet and she tightened her robe around her waist as she padded toward the kitchen.

The house always had a way of swallowing sound and Lisa's soft hum, the melody unrecognizable even to her, felt almost distant. It was the kind of morning that actually demanded no words, just the stillness of the world and the small ritual of making coffee and Lisa opened a cupboard, pulling out her favorite mug, setting it on the counter. Reaching for the coffee beans, she measured them into the grinder, the sharp whir slicing through the quiet for a short moment before fading back into silence and as the kettle began to heat, Lisa leaned against the counter, her arms crossed, gazing around the kitchen with a soft smile. Graceland was closed to public for two blissful weeks and she smiled faintly at the thought, loving being there and enjoying the Christmas morning. The kettle started hissing softly, signaling it was almost ready.

Pouring the water over the freshly ground coffee, Lisa breathed in the rich aroma and her shoulders relaxed, the tension that had lived there for God knew how long dissipating for a short moment.

She took the steaming mug and made her way to the dining room, moving slowly and deliberately. There was no rush, she was all alone there… Just her and the estate, hidden away from the world for two precious weeks.

Lisa sank into one of the chairs in the dining room, her gaze drifting outside. The snow was falling softly now, delicate flakes swirling in the pale morning light though it wasn’t sticking, just dusting the ground in fleeting white. Still, it was enough to make her smile.

She took a small sip when her eyes caught movement… a small cluster of birds hopping and darting near the edge of the garden. They flitted and chirped, seemingly playing in the thin layer of snow, pecking at invisible treasures in the grass and the sight tugged at something deep inside her while she sipped her coffee again, letting the heat seep into her palms as she held the mug close.

This was peace. The kind she hadn’t felt in... well, she couldn’t even remember the last time.

But the stillness didn’t last long as the memories crept in, uninvited but insistent, like they always did…

This was her year without the kids, Danny had them for Christmas and as usual he had been gracious, offering to have her join them at his house, but Lisa had declined. She wanted to be home… But what was her home anymore? Her house at Hidden Hills? God, she couldn’t even think about that place without a knot forming in her stomach. After the accident, it had stopped being a home and turned into a haunted house that scared the living daylights out of her. Lisa hadn’t set foot in it since the day Matt got shot there except for going back one day and packing some of her stuff, and she had decided to put the house on the market in January and get rid of it. She couldn’t keep it, not with everything that had happened there… That much she knew.

She could have gone anywhere for Christmas. Hawaii had crossed her mind, but the idea of spending the holiday in a bikini, sweating under a hundred-degree sun, felt... wrong. Like cheating on the season itself and so she had crossed it off her list almost as quickly as it came to mind, dismissing it with a huff.

Hawaii had a special place in her heart but it would have to wait for some other time, some other version of her. The one that wasn’t searching so desperately for quiet, for grounding and for all the pieces of herself she had lost somewhere along the way.

Well, and then there was Matt. Sweet Matt, who had invited her to fly to Iowa with him and spend the holidays with his family. The offer had been kind but the thought of accepting it felt like stepping into a minefield. The media had been circling her like vultures ever since she and Matt had been spotted together, twisting a few innocent moments into an entire fabricated saga and the last thing she needed was to give them more ammunition… especially now.

Besides, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Matt had only extended the invitation because he felt like he owed her. She had turned into a crazy person that had spent so much time at the hospital with him after his surgery and so it kind of felt like his invitation was more about gratitude than genuine desire. Not that he owed her anything but that wasn’t the kind of Christmas she wanted anyway and so she had politely declined, thanking him for the thought but firmly crossing Iowa off her mental list as well.

And so Graceland it was. The house was closed to the public for the holidays, a rare and welcome break from the usual parade of tourists and fans and her mother had stayed in LA, mercifully sparing Lisa from her meddling and passive-aggressive comments. It felt like the universe had conspired to give her this one gift — a bit of heavenly peace and  no obstacles standing between her and a quiet holiday, alone in one of the very few places in the entire world where she felt truly happy.

And it had been the right choice, she could feel it in her bones, in the way the tension eased every time she walked through its halls. Graceland was a sanctuary, a place that didn’t ask anything of her, it was just solid and unchanging, like a rock in a storm.

Lisa stood by the dining room window, coffee in hand, staring out at the snow. The flakes were falling heavier now, swirling and dancing in the wind before settling onto the patchy grass below and it was beautiful in its simplicity, the kind of quiet magic that made the rest of the world feel far away. She sipped her coffee, letting the warmth anchor her to the moment, trying to soak in the peace, a feeling she had been chasing for weeks now.

Her gaze drifted, absentmindedly tracing the outlines of the snow-dusted garden but then something else tugged at the edge of her vision and she turned her head lightly.

A stack of magazines sat on the far corner of the dining table, their glossy covers practically glowing under the morning light and her stomach tightened.

She hadn’t noticed them before, or maybe she had and had been subconsciously avoiding them but either way, they were impossible to ignore now.

The top one was the National Enquirer, its gaudy yellow-and-red headline screaming for attention like a carnival barker and Lisa rolled her eyes. She hated that rag, hated all of them, really. They were vultures, scavengers feeding on scraps of half-truths and outright lies and she quickly told herself to look away, to focus on the snow and on her coffee or literally anything else, but her eyes kept darting back to the stack. It was like they were daring her, taunting her to just take a look.

“Don’t even think about it, Lisa.” She mumbled to herself, her voice cutting through the silence of the room and she tore her gaze away before heading back to the kitchen and setting her mug down on the counter with a little more force than necessary.

Opening the pantry, she rummaged around until she found what she was looking for - a tin of chocolate chip cookies and she pulled one out, its edges crisp and golden, before biting into it.  Then she grabbed her mug, sipped, and let the flavors blend, bitter and sweet, dark and light.

Yet, when she wandered back to the dining room a few minutes later, the magazines were still there and she felt her chest tightening.

She hated how they could command her attention like that, how they seemed to have that magnetic pull no matter how much she tried to resist.

The Enquirer was on top and it was the one she hated the most, probably. Just remembering how about two weeks ago they printed that load of crap about her and Matt using the pictures from the park, making her want to choke the so-called journalist who had put all the next-level bullshit on the paper. Gosh, the pictures weren’t even scandalous, they were just sitting in a park, eating ice cream, smiling,  a harmless, innocent afternoon but the tabloids couldn’t care less about innocence. They only cared about drama.

Lisa groaned aloud, clutching her mug tighter as the anger bubbled up, sharp and hot, remembering that pathetic minefield of lies and insinuations, painting her as some kind of serial dater who couldn’t stay faithful to one man for more than five minutes.

The article had implied that she and Michael had broken up weeks ago and it claimed she had dumped him for Matt, which was utterly absurd and of course the photos were accompanied by captions that twisted the narrative even further, suggesting the ice cream date was romantic and intimate but that just couldn’t be further from the truth.

Then a call from her mother came, of course.

“Lisa, I’m so happy you’ve finally come to your senses.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t play coy with me. You finally decided to let Jackson go. Thank God.”

Lisa remembered how her grip on the phone had tightened.

“That’s not…”

“Believe it or not, this is like a Christmas present. Michael was all wrong for you. I’ve been telling you that for years and you finally seem to have listened.”

“Mother, stop! Do you seriously believe those stupid magazines? Are you crazy???”

“Me? Those pictures don’t seem to be lying, Lisa. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Oh my God! Matt and I are just friends and those photos were taken completely out of context. The whole article is garbage!!”

“Look, Lisa… I was just calling to tell you how glad I was that you were done with that manipulative, self-absorbed man-child, but now…”

And as anyone could have predicted, the conversation had spiraled from there, devolving into a shouting match that left Lisa’s nerves frayed before she had hung up on her mother like she usually would.

But the damage didn’t stop there, of course it didn’t…

For days, Lisa had tried to get in touch with Michael, desperate to explain and to tell him the truth before he could draw his own conclusions from the tabloid garbage but he didn’t answer. His phone went straight to voicemail, and every message she left felt more hollow than the last.

She had then tried reaching out to his assistant, his manager, even one of his producers, but no one would talk to her, that weird producer had been particularly cold, brushing her off with a curt “He’s busy” before hanging up on her without so much as a goodbye.

And that was when it hit her.

Michael was once again icing her out. It was what he always did when he felt hurt, when he thought she had done something to betray him. He would retreat into his shell, shutting her out completely.

Yes, he must have seen the photos.

Shit…

Lisa had tried a few more times to reach him, but eventually, she gave up. There was no point. He wasn’t going to pick up, and the silence from his team told her everything she needed to know. Michael didn’t want to hear from her…

And now here she was, standing in the dining room of Graceland, staring at the snow and clutching a half-eaten cookie. The coffee in her mug had gone cold, the bitterness lingering on her tongue and she set both down on the table, her eyes drifting back to the magazines one last time.

“Leave it, Lisa.” She whispered to herself again but the damage had already been done.

She bit her lip and walked over to the table, her movements slow, deliberate, like she was approaching a coiled snake before she stood there for a long moment, staring at the cover. Her reflection wavered in its glossy surface, distorted by bold, ridiculous headlines like ‘Hollywood’s Secret Love Triangles REVEALED!’ and ‘15 Celebs Who Aged Badly!’. She could feel the anger bubbling up again, but it was also tangled with something else. Curiosity? Against her better judgment, her hand darted out, and she grabbed the magazine, opened it and started flipping through the pages, assaulted by a barrage of blaring titles and outlandish claims.

Her eyes skimmed a bold headline splashed across the first page she landed on: “SECRET LOVE CHILD SHOCKER: Who’s the Daddy?!” Below it there was a grainy, zoomed-in photo of a vaguely familiar pop star holding a baby that Lisa knew wasn’t hers, the poor kid had chocolate smeared across her cheek, and the singer looked more exhausted than scandalous.

What a bullshit…

Flipping to another page, her gaze fell on the words “DIET DISASTER! HOW SHE GAINED 30 LBS IN 30 DAYS!” plastered across the top in neon yellow and the accompanying picture showed a famous chef emerging from a bakery, her arms laden with bags and a latte clutched precariously in one hand. Lisa squinted at the photo, noting how the angle distorted the poor woman’s body, making her look more like a caricature than a human being.

Page after page full of trash, each headline somehow more absurd than the last.

Lisa flipped past it all, her pulse quickening as she hunted for the article she knew would be there. And then she found it.

There, spread across two glossy pages, was Michael and the headline read: “MJ Strikes Back! Comeback Tour in the Middle East Sparks Buzz!”

Her heart clenched and she took a deep breath, clutching the magazine tighter, before she walked over to the armchair near the fireplace and she sank into the plush seat, her movements slow and careful, her eyes glued to the page.

The article was accompanied by photos, a bunch of them, and the captions alone were enough to make her blood run cold.

 

It seems that Michael Jackson is leaving no stone unturned in his efforts to get back on top. After years of dwindling album sales and no tours at all, the singer has been spotted in the Middle East, where he’s allegedly planning a grand-scale concert to mark his official “comeback.”

Sources tell us Michael has been in Bahrain for nearly a month, throwing himself into a whirlwind of PR events and high-profile appearances.

But it’s not just the professional buzz that’s got people talking. Michael was spotted at the charity gala at the Le Meridien with a stunning mystery woman on his arm. The exotic beauty, dressed in a sleek emerald gown, turned heads as she entered the room with the singer and witnesses report that the two looked cozy all evening, exchanging lingering glances and whispered words.

The woman, whose identity remains unknown, has already sparked rumors of a budding romance.

And what of Lisa Marie Presley? As readers will remember, we broke the story of Lisa’s recent “reunion” with Matt Lewis, complete with exclusive photos of the pair enjoying ice cream together in Los Angeles. Could Michael’s new flame be his way of moving on from Lisa? Or is this simply another PR stunt from a man desperate to repair his image? Only time will tell.

For now, one thing is certain: Michael is keeping busy, both personally and professionally, and leaving no room for any heartache Lisa Marie may have caused.

Lisa stared at the page, her breath catching as her eyes moved from one photo to the next, each one a gut punch. The first image showed Michael at a press conference, standing tall and confident, microphone in hand, his usual aviators perched coolly on his nose. He was smiling, the picture of someone in control, someone who had it all together. He looked calm, composed, like the man she once knew… charismatic and completely unfazed by the spotlight but as she stared at it a moment longer, she noticed a hint of exhaustion, of weariness, masked behind the smile.

The second photo was of him in front of a large poster announcing his concert at the end of January, his face still perfectly poised, that familiar grin in place. He looked strong and pretty much like he was back in his element but again, there was that subtle shift in his expression, something not quite right, something hidden behind the carefully constructed facade.

It was faint, barely noticeable, but Lisa could see it. She could feel it.

But then, her gaze dropped to the third photo, and everything in her chest seemed to collapse. There, in the image, was Michael with a woman. A beautiful, exotic woman, dressed in a striking emerald dress, her figure slim and graceful. Michael’s arm was around her waist, his face tilted toward hers as he leaned in to kiss her cheek and the woman was smiling widely, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

Lisa’s heart lurched, and suddenly, a wave of nausea hit her as the bile rose in her throat, sour and acidic and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the picture, couldn’t stop seeing the way he held her close to him, the way they seemed so... connected?

It was like a slap, the final confirmation that what she had feared might actually be true. Michael had moved on because of how she had fucked everything up...

Her hand trembled as she set the magazine down on the armrest, but her gaze never left the page and Lisa pressed her lips together, her throat tightening as she fought back the tears threatening to spill.

So, that was it? Were they done without either of them even saying the words out loud? Was this how it ended? Through the pages of a tabloid?

Her thoughts spiraled, a chaotic mix of hurt, anger, and guilt. Wasn’t this all her fault after all? Wasn’t this exactly what her actions over the last month had been leading to?

The way she had ignored Michael, buried herself in the hospital with Matt, not even thinking about the consequences of leaving Michael alone in the final week before he was leaving. And the stupid voicemail she had left, so full of doubt and hesitation, telling him he should find someone better. God, how could she have even said that? Had she gone completely mad?

For a while, after their phone call, it seemed like they had worked though it and fixed it, the feeling of being in love and missing him like crazy finding its way back to her heart… but then those damn photos with Matt appeared, those photos that had exploded everywhere, painting the most ridiculous story…

Goddammit!!

Lisa clenched her fists, the sharp sting of her nails biting into her palms. Yes, this was Michael’s way of getting back at her, had to be, he wanted her to see it, wanted her to feel the same sting of betrayal he had felt and it was working. God, it was working…

She grabbed her phone from the side table, her fingers fumbling over the buttons. Her contact list blurred as she scrolled, but she found his name easily and her thumb hovered over the call button for a fraction of a second before she pressed it, her heart pounding so hard it hurt.

Beep, beep, beep.

Her brow furrowed. That wasn’t his voicemail. A second later the automated voice droned in her ear.

“Call cannot be completed as dialed.”

Lisa froze, her stomach dropping like she had just stepped off a cliff.

No way. No. He wouldn’t… he couldn’t.

She redialed, her fingers shaking now, but it was the same story. The number wasn’t his anymore.

He had changed it.

Her chest tightened, a cold ache settling in as the realization sank in. He hadn’t just shut the door… he had locked it, bolted it, and walked away with the key.

She slowly lowered the phone as a single tear slid down her cheek, then another, hot and relentless and before she knew it, they were streaming freely, unstoppable, blurring her vision and dampening the collar of her robe.

She drew her knees up to her chest, burying her face in her arms as the sobs wracked her body and the silence of the room, so peaceful just minutes ago, now felt suffocating and almost oppressive. The snow continued to fall outside the window, indifferent to her pain, blanketing the world in cold white while Lisa closed her eyes, letting the tears fall, her mind spinning with questions she couldn’t answer.

Was this the end? Or just another cruel chapter in their unpredictable story?

She didn’t know. All she knew was that the hurt was almost unbearable and that, for the first time in a long time, she felt truly, achingly alone.

Lisa sat in the armchair for what felt like an eternity, her tears subsiding into a softer, almost rhythmic flow as they streaked silently down her cheeks, leaving her drained, hollow, and too tired to keep fighting the emotions running through her.

She wiped her face on the sleeve of her robe, sniffled, and finally stood up, her movements slow and deliberate. The house was eerily quiet,  and she walked back to the foyer before glancing up at the staircase, its plush carpet inviting her to retreat to somewhere even more private, somewhere she could fall apart no holds barred.

When she reached the second floor, she turned, her gaze locking on the door to her father’s room and it seemed to call to her. She hesitated for only a moment before reaching for the handle, twisting it, and stepping inside.

The air was different there… heavier, nostalgic, filled with an energy she couldn’t quite explain but always felt and she closed the door softly behind her and leaned against it, letting the familiar stillness wash over her.

The room hadn’t changed at all and she always found an odd comfort in that. She crossed the room, sat down on the edge of his bed and let herself sink back onto the mattress before reaching over to the small nightstand and turning on the CD player as the familiar voice crooned through the speakers.

‘Are you lonesome tonight? Do you miss me tonight?’

The song struck her hard and she closed her eyes, letting the music seep into her, wrapping itself around her and Lisa listened, tears leaking out again as she mouthed the words. The house, with all its memories and ghosts, seemed both a refuge and a source of pain where every corner held echoes of the past like her dad’s laughter or the warmth of Christmas mornings long gone. And yet, here she was, alone, grieving relationships she didn’t even fully understand, and unsure how to move forward.

The music played on, transitioning into “If I Can Dream” and Lisa curled up on her side, clutching a pillow to her chest, her tears soaking into the fabric. Somewhere between the songs, exhaustion overtook her, and she drifted off, her dad’s voice lulling her into a restless sleep…

When she woke again, the room was dimly lit, and the sun had shifted to the other side of the house, casting long shadows through the curtains. Lisa blinked groggily, disoriented, her body stiff from lying in one position for too long while the music was still playing softly, and she sat up, rubbing her face.

She slid off the bed and onto the floor, sitting cross-legged as she hummed along the next song noticing the tears had stopped, replaced by a strange kind of calm, like the music was pulling her back together, piece by piece.

And then she heard it…

A sound. Faint at first, almost indistinguishable from the background hum of the CD player and she froze, her humming cutting off abruptly as she tilted her head toward the door. It sounded like… voices. Distant, muffled, but undeniably there and her heart kicked up a notch. She was alone there, wasn’t she?

She had locked the door, hadn’t she? A cold shiver ran down her spine as she slowly rose to her feet.

She took a step toward the door, her bare feet soundless on the carpet before she reached for the handle and hesitated. Then she slowly cracked the door open and the voices grew louder, coming from downstairs making Lisa strain to make them out, but all she caught were snippets… laughter and a familiar cadence.

Swallowing hard, she stepped into the hallway and made her way to the stairs, gripping the bannister as her knees slightly wobbled beneath her and when she slowly started descending the staircase, the voices grew clearer and then she saw them…

“Mom!” Ben’s voice rang out first, bright and excited, his grin lighting up the room like a thousand Christmas lights. “You can’t be alone on Christmas!”

He was standing by the main door, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, and Riley walked over to him smiling, her hair tucked into a festive red beanie that matched her sweater.

“We’re a family, and families should be together on Christmas so we decided to surprise you!” Riley added and took off her jacket.

Lisa stood frozen on the stairs, her hand flying to her mouth.

What in the world?

She hadn’t expected them at all but there they were and the sight of them made her heart swell to the point of bursting as she descended the steps and pulled them both into a tight embrace, her arms wrapping around them as though she could anchor herself to them forever. They smelled like winter air and cocoa, and Lisa clung to them, blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall again.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes landed on the third figure standing by the door, leaning casually against it with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry, Grinch… we just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He said simply, his voice warm and familiar. “The kids couldn’t bear the thought of you being here alone, and, well… neither could I.”

Lisa took a shaky breath, her emotions too tangled to make sense of but she stepped forward and hugged him too.

“Wow… just… wow.” She let out as Danny hugged her back, holding her tight.

“Merry Christmas.” He whispered into her ear.

 

 

The house, so silent and heavy just hours ago, now hummed with life and Lisa stood at the edge of the kitchen, leaning against the counter, watching as the kids and Danny bustled about. Riley was rifling through the grocery bags they had brought, pulling out containers of food, while Ben and Danny had their heads in the fridge, muttering about drink options.

The air smelled faintly of the sweet coffee she had made earlier, now mingling with the scent of roast turkey and candied yams as they heated up their impromptu Christmas feast.

“Y’all didn’t have to do this…” Lisa said, her voice catching slightly as she hugged herself, her robe still wrapped tightly around her but her heart was so much lighter now, the ache of solitude softened by their presence.

“Yeah, we did.” Ben said, straightening up and holding two bottles of sparkling cider in his hands before he raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. “You wouldn’t let me be alone on Christmas, either!”

Lisa smiled.

“How… how did you guys even manage to get here?”

Danny turned from the fridge, holding a carton of orange juice and grinning at her.

“Well... We were going to stay in LA, but in the end kids decided they couldn’t let you be alone and so we jumped on a plane this morning and figured the rest out as we went.”

“We didn’t even bring the presents.” Riley said, her tone mock-apologetic as she spooned mashed potatoes into a bowl. “We’ll just open them when we get back.”

Lisa let out a watery laugh, shaking her head at their spontaneity.

“You guys are unbelievable.” She said softly, her voice thick with emotion before she stepped forward and pulled her children into another hug, squeezing them tightly. “I love you both so much. You know that, right?”

“We know.”

Then at one point, Lisa paused as she raised an eyebrow, her tone suspicious.

“Wait… That’s it for surprises, right? It’s not like Grandma’s about to come barging through the door next, is it?”

The kids groaned in unison, and Danny chuckled, shaking his head.

“No, Lisa. You’re safe. No surprise appearances from your mom. Take it as a Christmas miracle.”

 

After dinner, the table looked like a battlefield of holiday indulgence, with only crumbs and a few stubborn scraps left to show for the feast and by the time the food was gone, the group had migrated back into the kitchen for the cleanup. However, as soon as the basics were done, the boys conveniently disappeared into the Jungle Room, guitars in hands and Lisa could hear the faint strums of strings while she and Riley exchanged a look across the kitchen, both shaking their heads but smiling despite themselves.

The two of them got to work on the rest of the mess, Lisa rolled her sleeves up and grabbed the sponge, attacking the counters where powdered sugar from the cookies had made its mark like a stubborn snowdrift while Riley was rinsing off the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher.

“Oh, shoot!” Riley suddenly exclaimed, snapping her fingers. “I almost forgot! I went back to our house to grab the mail before we left, Mom. Figured there would be bills and stuff you’d need to deal with.”

“Thanks, sweetheart. No rush. We can deal with it later.” Lisa waved a hand dismissively but Riley was already drying her hands on a kitchen towel walking toward the door.

“Hang on. I left it in my bag.” She said, darting into the hallway and when she returned a moment later with a thick stack of envelopes, she set them on the counter in front of Lisa.

“There you go.” Riley said, planting a kiss on her mom’s cheek. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go join the boys. I think they’re plotting something.”

Lisa smiled, watching her daughter disappear down the hallway before turning her attention to the stack of mail. She began flipping through it absentmindedly… some utility bills, junk mail, a catalog or two. And then she froze and her breath caught in her throat as her eyes landed on an envelope near the bottom of the stack. The handwriting was unmistakable… bold, slightly uneven and painfully familiar and her stomach flipped when she took in the Arabic stamp in the corner.

Michael?

Her hands trembled as she pulled the envelope out, the other letters falling to the counter in a forgotten heap and Lisa stared at it, her chest tightening, the air around her feeling suddenly too thin. What could he possibly have to say? After everything…

Her fingers fumbled as she tore open the envelope, her breath hitching while she unfolded the single sheet of paper inside.

 

My dearest Lisa,

There are moments in life when silence is no longer an option, and this is one of them. I’ve always believed that actions speak louder than words, but there are things only words can express, and I hope these will be enough to show you what’s in my heart.

I’ve just arrived in Bahrain, and I can barely catch my breath. The flight was long, the journey exhausting, but it wasn’t until I was thrust into a press conference that I realized how tired I actually was. In the midst of all the chaos, I heard your voicemail. Your voice.

When I heard those words — “You deserve someone better” — my whole world stopped, and I could barely breathe, Lisa. Is that really what you think? Because, in all honesty, it’s the furthest thing from the truth. You are my everything. You’ve always been my everything. You are the best part of me, the light in my world.

I’ll admit, at first, I was angry. Angry at you, at us and at everything that had gone down between us. It felt easier to hold onto that anger than to face how broken I felt. But it wasn’t just anger. Beneath it, there was something far heavier — loss. And when I let myself feel that, I realized how much I missed you.

I don’t want someone better. I just want you.

I’ve always believed in soulmates. That one person who completes you in a way no one else can and from the first moment I met you, I knew. There was no doubt in my heart that you were the one. No one else has ever made me feel the way you do and I know no one ever will. It’s always been you, Lise.

I wanted to call you the moment I heard your voicemail to tell you all of this but in the frenzy of everything, my phone got crushed beneath the feet of the fans waiting for me, and now I can’t even reach you.

But then, I saw the paper on the table in front of me and something just clicked. I had to write to you. I know it won’t reach you for weeks, but I wanted to do it anyway.

I keep replaying all the moments we have had in my mind — the first time you kissed me under the old oak tree or the nights we would lie on the grass at the ranch, just talking about everything and nothing, holding hands, watching the stars and dreaming about a future that felt so close and so real. Do you remember?

Or that one night in the studio? We were a little tipsy on wine, laughing over everything, and somehow we ended up recording that silly, beautiful song. It’s still in my safe, Lisa. One of my most treasured things.

But the moment that stays with me the most is the way you held Prince and Paris for the first time. The way you looked at them, like everything in the world had fallen into place and it was like I could see our whole future in that moment. I’ve always hoped, and still do, that we would be a family. That’s what I want most.

I love you, Lisa. I love you more than I ever thought I was capable of. This is the kind of love that doesn’t fade, doesn’t weaken with time. You’ve taught me what it means to give my heart completely, and I can’t imagine my life without you in it.

I’m sorry about last week. I was so angry at you but now I wish I had handled some things differently.

I hope we can talk soon. I hope we can work through this. I know there have been misunderstandings, but we don’t have to let them stand between us anymore. We’re stronger than that. I need you, Lise, and I can’t wait to hold you again, to kiss you, and to remind you, as I always will, that you are the one for me.

Forever yours,

Michael

 

By the time she finished reading the letter, Lisa's cheeks were soaked with tears and she hadn’t even noticed how freely they had been falling until one of them dropped onto the page, smudging Michael’s words, just a tiny, blurry streak where his love and desperation had poured out onto paper.

“No, no.” She whispered, her fingers trembling as she tried to brush the tear away and the ink smeared slightly under her fingertips, making her freeze and panic at the thought of ruining it.

This letter felt somehow sacred, a tangible piece of him she didn’t realize how much she needed. Carefully, she set it down on the counter, staring at it and her hands shook as she picked up the envelope again, flipping it over and noticing the postmark for the first time. Sent almost a month ago.

Lisa’s chest tightened as the weight of the timing hit her. Michael had written it before everything else, before the tabloids, the photos, the misunderstandings. Before the lies, the hurt and the endless silence that now stretched between them like a canyon too wide to cross. He had still believed in them then. Still hoped.

Lisa folded the letter carefully, reverently, and slipped it back into the envelope, smoothing the edges with the pads of her fingers. Then she wiped her tears, trying to steady herself, even as her mind raced with a million questions…