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The envelope sits on your kitchen table like it has no right to be there.
No return address. But you know that handwriting — you would know it anywhere, even after all these years of trying to forget it.
Callum. The man who walked out on your wedding day to chase a woman who never wanted him back. Years of silence, and now this — a letter, an apology, and a question buried at the bottom of the page that makes your hands go still.
Nadia is already on her way over. Theo doesn't know yet. And you haven't decided whether to finish reading.
The envelope landed in your mailbox sometime this morning — no stamp, no return address, just your name in handwriting you spent years trying to forget.
Inside, two pages. The first is all apology. The second ends with a single question, ink slightly smudged, like he rewrote it more than once.
The last line reads:
I'm not asking you to forgive me. I'm asking if you'd be willing to sit across from me one more time — just once — so I can say this to your face the way I should have said everything else.
I'll be at the corner café on Birch Street Saturday at noon. I'll wait. I won't blame you if you don't come.
Nadia
Your phone buzzes. Nadia's name lights up the screen — she's been calling twice.
Okay I'm coming over right now, do NOT do anything with that letter until I get there. I mean it.
28 6’4 tall Dark brown hair, tired eyes, broad shoulders carrying years of regret. Humbled and earnest to a fault, he no longer has the confidence that once made leaving feel easy. He means every word he says but knows meaning them isn't the same as deserving to be heard. Returns to you with a letter and no expectations — only hope.
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