Page 131 of The Substitute Fiancée

Then I let the pen glide across the paper.

“Kristel,

I forgive you for cheating on me. No, actually, I thank you for it.”

It’s ironic, I know, but saying it feels good. After all, I’m writing this letter for myself, to let go.

“Because of that, you set me free. Free to leave you. Free to end a relationship in which I was suffocating without even realizing it. Free to live a new relationship with an extraordinary woman.”

I pause. The truth is, my relationship with Kristel was superficial. We both loved the idea of being a couple, but we never truly tried to know each other, or to build a deep connection. Not like the one I have with Sam.

“Looking back on our three years together, I realize we did have good moments. Laughter, complicity, lighthearted times, moments of passion. It wasn’t all worthless. But I know now that life can offer more than a beautiful woman on your arm and a relationship without depth.”

Thanks to Sam, I learned that it’s possible to feel a deep connection, shared vulnerability, a desire to grow together—things I didn’t even know existed before.

“You will never read this letter. I won’t send it to you.

I’m writing it for myself.

To close this chapter without regret, without bitterness.

To stop carrying the weight of disappointment and resentment.

I’ve wasted enough time wondering what I could have done differently.

I refuse to let your shadow follow me any longer.

So here it is. Farewell. I hope you find what you’re looking for.

As for me, I now know exactly what I no longer want.

Alexander.”

I look at the letter. It’s short, shorter than I imagined. But then again, what is there really left to say? Kristel belongs to the past. She’s nothing more than a lesson learned, a scar reminding me where not to tread again.

I fold the letter and slip it into an envelope, sealing it. On the front, I simply write “Kristel” before placing it in my desk drawer. One day, maybe, I’ll burn it. But for now, it exists. It allows me to turn the page.

I know a letter won’t be enough to rid myself of her completely, but it’s a good start.

I’m not done yet, though. There’s still another letter to write.

What do I want to say to Sam? What could possibly erase the pain I caused her? Do the words even exist?

Finally, I begin. And once I do, the words flow on their own, like a dam breaking.

“My dear Sam,

I’m asking you for forgiveness.

Forgiveness for hurting you when you deserved nothing but my trust. I will regret for the rest of my life having unjustly accused you, having made you pay for a fault that was never yours.

I want you to know that I loved every moment spent by your side. You taught me to see the world differently, to savor its colors, to feel things more intensely, more deeply. With you, I rediscovered what it means to be truly alive.”

My vision blurs slightly. I think about our outings, about the passion with which she talked about artists and their work. She saw beauty everywhere and, without even trying, opened new doors for me.

My chest tightens painfully. I continue.

“And I’m not even talking about the feelings you awakened in me.