When Lorna came back, the house was silent.
After carrying Jason to bed after he had fallen asleep in the car on the way back from Harmony Hills, she stood by herself in the hallway and allowed the silence to grow. The withdrawal was complete. The edges and uncertainties of the real world awaited.
She unpacked her bag slowly as she wandered into her bedroom. A hoodie folded. Jason insisted on keeping a trail map. Her journal was at the very bottom, creased and almost forgotten.
Her breath caught at the sight of it.
She hadn't written anything in it for weeks. The letter—that letter—had been the previous entry. The one she didn't mean to send. The one that she had initiated the evening Jason asked her if she still loved Michael and she was at a loss for words.
With her heart pounding, she sat on the edge of the bed and opened it, reading the first few lines again.
Dear Michael,
I have a lot of things to say. Perhaps because I lacked the bravery. Perhaps because I felt too hurt, too angry, or too uncertain. However, the silence feels more weighty tonight than any response I could provide. So, just in case, I'll write.
Midway through the page, her handwriting changed, the emotion growing with every word.
She picked up her pen and started writing again, slowly and deliberately.
I never imagined that Jason and I would have another weekend like this one. It felt genuine even though it wasn't flawless. And I saw the man I used to believe in when I watched you with our son—the warmth, the patience, the gentleness. My beloved man.
I didn't answer when you said you were still in love with me. I felt everything, not because I didn't feel anything.
Michael, I'm afraid. I'm afraid we'll try again and fail. I'm afraid of losing myself. However, I'm also afraid that I'll abandon something genuine because I'm too scared to hold out hope.
Here it is, then. My reality.
You have always been loved by me.
However, I want us to construct something new this time. From the growth, not from the ruins. from our current selves. Slowly. With caution. To be honest.
You have this letter if you still desire that.
Lorna's hand shook a little as she gazed at the page for a long time. Then she folded the letter neatly and took it out of the journal.
She wrote one word on the front and slipped it into an envelope:
Michael.
No date. No justification.
Only the beginning.
She left it at his office reception the following morning along with the following note: "Please give this to Michael personally. Don't hurry."
She didn't send a text. did not await a response.
She wasn't hurrying to get somewhere for once. She was just deciding to be honest.
Whatever came next, at least he would know.
And that, finally, was enough.