NovelBarWhen | first started writing this letter, | felt like | had a ton of stuff to spill to you, but then again, | was kinda at a loss for what to
actually say.
It's like we've been tight this whole time, but there's always been this massive mountain range between us that we just can't seem
to bridge.
| tried to step into your world once, but no dice - | couldn't find the way in. Then | tried to distance myself from your world, but |
couldn't shake it off; guess that's just fate doing its thing.
People always say, 'You pay off in this life what you owe from the last." Whenever life throwsa curveball, | can't help but
comfort myself by thinking that maybe my whole purpose this taround on Earth is to settle all the emotional debts from my
past life. Once I'm square, | can ascend back to where | cfrom. Sure, it's a bit of a childish, mystical thought, but it does help
It's the sdeal this taround.
Truth be told, for the longest time, | didn't have the guts to waltz back into your world. We didn't tie the knot because of love, nor
did we untie it because love was missing - it was just a bad fit. Yet, this fact that we both nodded to two years ago, we have to
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtrevisit and shatter it because of the kiddo.
| often say your world is too far out of reach for me, not just because of our social standing but probably because of our different
upbringings leading to different core values.
| remember back in Wye City we chewed over this stuff - you just wanted a life, while | was after love.
| was adopted, not really wanted by my mom, and it was only after begging my dad with tears and snot that | got to stay. | had a
family but didn't really have one. Growing up, | always wanted to know what it felt like to be loved - by family, by a husband. It's
like, you live your life and there's stuff you've never had, you just gotta try it out once, right? So | get kinda hung up on whether
there's love or not.
You never lacked love growing up, but you did lack company. Maybe that's why companionship means more to you. | don't know if
I'm on the money with this take on you, and if I'm off-base, don't sweat it.
Because | was so hung up on love, | couldn't cto terms with our marriage. Spending my first half in a loveless environment
and facing the prospect of spending the second half the sway was downright despairing for me. So for a good while, | resisted
any suggestion you made, including getting back together for Theresa's sake.
It's like, the more you lack something in life, the more you crave it. For a long time, | was stuck in this unrealistic fixation and
ended up hurting you and Theresa. I'm really sorry for that.
You were my first crush, the only person I've ever liked and truly loved. | never got any love back from my family, so | couldn't help
but pin those unfulfilled hopes on you. | obsessed over whether you liked me, loved me, and | always hoped my feelings for you
would be reciprocated. If not, then it felt like it was better to have none of it. | avoided and distanced myself all these years, just
trying to lighten my own load, but | overlooked one fact.
I, who chose to bring Theresa into this world without any wrongdoing on your part, can't just think about myself like I'm flying solo.
Theresa likes you, and you love her. | can't rob you two of your right to enjoy family ttogether, and since | chose to have
Theresa, | have a duty to raise and be there for her.
These past days, I've done a lot of thinking. Honestly, there's no big beef between us. We could've been like any other couple,
living in harmony. All the imbalance was just my own obsession. | guess | was too caught up in my own head without even
realizing, and | ended up causing you and Theresa pain. I'm truly sorry.
Brandon, if it's possible, can we...try to patch things up, give Theresa a complete family?"
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The letter ended with a string of ellipses, like it was either finished or not.
This letter was a deep dive into her own journey of the heart and a serious convo with him. Maybe she wanted to send it but felt
the timing was off, so she quietly tucked it away in the draft box.
Brandon had no clue what kind of headspace Sophia was in when she wrote this letter, or what made her shove it back into the
drafts, switching it out for the simple, indecisive, "Let's make up," "I'm sorry," and "Happy Birthday".
He didn't know how long she sat in front of the computer, writing this letter, how long she hesitated. Every word she wrote was a
compromise with destiny after a strict self-discipline.
Brandon read the text over and over, frozen in place.
Grace walked in to find Brandon standing like a statue in the living room, holding Sophia's phone.
She couldn't help but call out to him, "Mr. Crawley?"
Brandon seemed oblivious until she got close, and then suddenly, he spat out a mouthful of blood.
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