“Sorry I abandoned you, but I wrote a book about it”?
I’m such a coward.
I love you. I never stopped.
Cara
She wrote a book about us. A book about an omega who runs and alphas who wait. I’ve heard Theo read it out loud, mocking the dramatic parts, and I never knew—I never realized?—
It was us. It was always us.
And one more. Dated six months ago.
Nate,
I dreamed about you last night. About all of you. We were at Grandma’s kitchen table, like we used to be, and you were laughing—actually laughing—and Theo was stealing cookies off the cooling rack, and Lucas was pretending to scold him, and I was just... there. Like I belonged.
I woke up crying.
Ten years, Nate. I’ve been gone ten years and I still dream about you like I left yesterday.
Sometimes I think about what would have happened if I’d just answered the phone. If I’d sent one of these letters. If I’d been brave enough to come home instead of convincing myself you’d all moved on.
You probably have. You should have. God knows I don’t deserve anything else.
But I can’t stop wondering. Can’t stop wishing I could go back and do it all differently.
I love you. I never stopped.
I don’t think I ever will.
Cara
The pages blur. I blink, and something wet hits the paper.
Oh.
I’m crying.
I don’t cry. I can’t remember the last time I cried. But there are tears on my face now, dripping onto letters that span a decade, written by a woman who loved me enough to leave and never figured out how to come back.
She never stopped.
All this time—the silence, the distance, the years of thinking she forgot about me—she never stopped loving me.
And she was afraid. Just like I’m afraid. Trapped by the same walls I’ve been hiding behind, too scared to reach out because what if it was too late?
“Nate?”
Her voice comes from behind me. Footsteps in the hallway—she must have come to check why I’m taking so long.
“Nate, did you find the?—”
She stops. I turn around, and I know what she sees. Me, on my knees in her closet, holding her letters, tears streaming down my face.
Her eyes go wide. Then they drop to the papers in my hands, and all the color drains from her face.
“Oh god.” Her voice breaks. “You found them.”
