Paul,
I’ve been writing letters for you since the day we parted. I don’t know if you’re still thinking of me, but I hope so. I remember, you hate it when I cry. You always wanted to see me smile. You always wanted to hear me laugh. And now, you’re the reason why I am crying every night. Do you ever love me? Even a bit? The people who knows what happened have been telling me that you never did and that it was too obvious. I was just too blind or too stupid to think that things were as perfect as I thought they were. I keep on believing that you did love me, just to lessen the pain. But I’m thankful for those little moments we have. You see, those days are the happiest day of my life. You proved me that Friday the 13th isn’t a bad luck. You made that day special for me. You don’t know how my heart flatters when you gave me a rose. You don’t know how I felt when you said that you like me. You don’t know how my heart raced when your friends said we looked good together. And how I wanted to faint when you agreed with them. I’m thankful you’re not looking at me that time. I have the time to composed myself and hide my smile.But they we’re right. Everything has an end.
I noticed you’ve changed. Those late night talks were gone. You became distant. Have I done something wrong? Do I missed something? We’re passing by the corridors like strangers. I don’t have the courage to asked you. I’m scared. I want to know why but I’m scared. I want to be angry with you. You left me behind. You left me with so many questions unanswered. You left me with a broken heart. You ripped it into million of pieces.
Sometimes, I think what if I just ignored you? What if I didn’t came that Friday the 13th? What if I just sleep or read books that day? But no, I came. I want to be happy that’s why I came. I want to feel how is it to be with you. I’m secretly loving you for three years that’s why I grabbed the chance. You tore me apart but I’m still loving you. I wish I never loved you. I wish I can unloved you.
I know you never loved me. It’s just my dream and my heart. But I’m giving you my heart, though I know you can’t give yours, for someone holds it in a firm grasp.
I folded my letter for him and put it in an envelope. I never had a chance to gave it to him. I know it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m the only one holding on, to our memories. It’s just that it stings everytime I think of him. It’s like he dug a big hole in my heart and leave it like that. God knows how I wanted to forget him. All those memories we had, it gives me happiness and at the same time, loneliness. If I just have the courage to give these letters to him.
“Claire, help your sister in the kitchen.”
It’s her Mom. She put her letter in the table and leave the room. They prepared food for lunch.
“Mom, where’s Dad?” She asked. It’s 12:27 p.m. already.
“He send some letters for your Auntie Carol. He’ll come home soon.”
She smiled and go back to her room to get her phone.
She stiffened when her last letter for Paul is missing. It’s not on her table. She checked the box, full of letters for Paul. But the letter she wrote earlier is really missing.
She ran downstairs. Her Dad arrived.
“Mom, Dad, did you see the letter on my study table?”
“Ah yes. I send it to the post office.”
She paled. She can’t manage to eat that day. She wanted to get angry with her Dad for going inside her room and getting her letter for Paul. She can’t imagine how she will faced Paul after reading her letter. She spend the whole afternoon in her rom. Every minute is hell for her.
Dinner came and she didn’t join them.
Her phone vibrated.
It’s from an unknown number but she know who he is.
It’s Paul.
“I’m sorry.”
And she realized, it’s never going to be okay.
