The night was slowly slipping away… and here I am, writing my final letter.
For a long while I hesitated before putting these words on paper, as if the very letters feared coming into existence. Yet I must write now—perhaps she will read it someday… though the thought itself feels almost impossible. I know she may never read it at all, but I only wish to unburden my heart and say the things I never had the courage to say before.
"Sarah,
I am sorry for everything that came from me. Look at what I have become… does it please you to see me like this?
I know you loved me once, and I know how deeply I failed you. I remember that day all too clearly—the day I left you alone by the riverbank and wandered off with my friends, chasing a moment of careless amusement. It was a terrible mistake… one whose weight I understood only when it was far too late.
I know you are angry. I feel your silent reproach every night. I see you moving around me in the darkness, as if you are watching over me—guarding me from something I cannot see.
And I watch over you too, my dear… but we are no longer what we once were.
There are two worlds between us now—worlds that can never meet.
You remain in yours… and I am trapped in mine.
You are not alone… yet loneliness has become my only companion.
You belong to one kind… and I to another.
Please, Sarah… do not come back every night like this. The long nights have exhausted me. Five years have passed, and I sleep only in brief, restless moments. By day, I wander through the places we once visited together… as though I might still find you lingering in their shadows."
I placed the letter gently on the desk…
and waited.
The room was silent—so silent that the ticking of the clock sounded like a hammer striking the walls of time.
And then…
the door slowly began to move.