Fourth Letter

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My Dearest Celia,

Today, for the first time in fifty years, I spoke openly to someone about our love story. I wish I hadn't waited so long to do it. I wish you had been by my side holding my hand as I opened up my heart. My voice was shaking but thank God I'm still a good actress, even though you would have known right away how I really felt. You were always good at figuring out what was going on in my head. That's what I liked about you - about us. Our wonderful mental connection, our secret way of talking without saying a word. Maybe that's also what allowed us to keep our relationship hidden for so long. After all, it was always there, in front of everyone's eyes, all they had to do was know how to read it. But no one ever could. Not even on the day of your funeral while I cried till my last tear for your death, the world was unable to understand how I really felt about you.
Don't worry, it won't remain a secret much longer. That's why I put my plan into action. It's time to tell the truth. No more lies, no more secrets.
Very soon we will be reunited while the rest of the world will talk about us, about our love, about what we could have been and what we have been only in the shadow of the spotlight.

Some people will think we fooled them, while others will swear they knew it all along. But perhaps never will anyone fully understand the nature of our love. You know, somehow I want them to know. I can't leave knowing that I left something unfinished. I can't leave without being honest at least once in my life.
Today I was asked this question: Who was your greatest love, Evelyn?
And I said it. I told the truth because my heart couldn't wait any longer.
"Celia St. James was my greatest love."
And when I said it, when I said your name, there was no turning back. I was like a river in flood. I wanted to stand up and scream it again and again. Celia St. James was and will forever be the love of my life.

Oh honey, I can't wait to see you again. Wait for me with open arms, I will be on time.

Forever yours,

Evelyn

For my love, Celia St. JamesWhere stories live. Discover now