All of it.
So yes, I’m scared.But I’m more scared of not getting back to you.
You told me to write it down, so here it is: I promise I’ll come back.
I don’t know how, and I don’t know when, but I’m holding that promise between me and each long day that tries to take it from me.
I’m not finished loving you.
Not even close.
I keep thinking about the way your hand fits inside mine.How your thumb moves when you’re nervous.How your face scrunches when you try not to smile.
Write soon, often.
Write about everything—even the boring days.Especially the boring days.Those remind me of what I’m fighting for.
Yours,
Thomas
P.S.If your father ever finds out about me, blame everything on my bad influence.I’ll take it.
ChapterTwenty
Mara
My vision blurs before I reach the postscript.
I press the heels of my palms against my eyes like pressure will stop the flood.It doesn’t.The tears slip out anyway.Stupid waterworks.
“Can someone love this much?”My voice cracks, and I sniff, trying to find air.“They were kids.Kids.”
Sixteen and eighteen.
Mila is eight.
Half the age Lina was in this letter.
The thought rushes through me, unexpected and unsettling, like my body isn’t built for holding something this big.My lungs hitch, then try to catch up.Sam and I were older.We didn’t have war or oceans or weeks without letters.We had cracked schedules, mismatched dreams, piles of laundry, and all the ordinary frustrations that come with trying to love someone while still figuring out who we were.
And still ...losing him shattered me.
“How is it possible to feel that much at sixteen?”I whisper, mostly to myself.“How did she survive losing something like that?Did they break up because they realized they wanted different things?”
I don’t expect an answer, but Alec speaks anyway.
“I’m pretty sure he died.”
I whip my head toward him.“Why are you assuming that?”
He exhales—long, apologetic, like the regret hits him a second too late.
“Alec,” I say, wiping at my face even though it does nothing.“You can’t just drop something like that and expect me not to ask more questions.”
“I know.”He rubs the back of his neck, gaze lowering.“I shouldn’t have said it that way.”
“Then say it the way you meant to.”
