A Theodore Nott Love Story.
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Everything isn't what it seems.
***
"Lies! It's all lies, Theo!" I raised my voice, tears brimming the edge.
"What do you mean?" He furrowed his brows, even more confused.
"It- I-" I shook my head trying to think...
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Dear Theo...
Hi... haha. I don't know how to start this. I don't want to say I'm sorry. Even though I deeply am... it's not going to fix what I've broken or what I've done.
Have you ever heard that saying? Where you throw a plate to the ground and it breaks... then you say sorry...? Well after you say sorry, it doesn't repair itself.
My meaning is that I can't say sorry and fix any of this.
For years, I haven't seen you. I haven't written to you. And yes, there is an explanation for it. But it's not a good enough one.
I should've trusted you. Should've loved you the way you did me. I shouldn't have felt the way that I did. I shouldn't have lied.
I know that... at least now I do.
Honestly, I've written this letter a million times. Each time being ripped up and thrown into the trash.
I shouldn't even be writing to you. It's not right. Not for the way that I treated you.
I left you. Alone and crying. And I'll never forgive myself for it.
I know saying — well, writing — this won't fix anything. But I'm sorry.
I knew that you had abandonment issues and I still ignored it. Caring for myself and not you. It was wrong of me to do that.
The thing is... I have that same issue.
My dad left me when I was little... but that's not the point. The point is that I betrayed you. In so many ways. Not just by leaving but by lying to you. And... well keeping a huge secret from you.
It's been eight years now. And you're going to deeply hate me for this...
Lorelei Violet...
Remember that time in your room? You talked about how you wanted your first daughter to have her middle name as your mother's name... I'm sorry you weren't there for that. But I still did it... For you.
That's not the best way to say that.
I'm throwing this away.
"Fuck!" I yelled, ripping the letter up and throwing my quill onto my desk.
How the fuck am I supposed to do this? It's been five years. Surely I could've done it so much sooner.
"Mummy?" Her little voice cracked and I turned around, seeing her standing there.
"Oh, I'm sorry darling..." I stood up, throwing the letter into the trash. "Did I wake you?"
She shook her head, "No. The owl did." She held up a letter, "I think Papa Ross wrote."
