Three Little Heartbeats

Chapter 20: A Letter Never Sent

Alexia sat at her small kitchen table, a cup of cold coffee untouched beside her. The apartment was eerily quiet, save for the occasional sound of cars passing by on the street below. Outside, autumn was settling in, and the once green trees were now shedding their leaves, much like she felt her own life was slowly unraveling.

She stared at the blank sheet of paper in front of her, the weight of everything she'd been carrying pressing down on her chest. The grief, the anger, the loneliness—it all swirled inside her, threatening to overwhelm her if she didn't find a way to release it.

Alexia took a deep breath, picked up her pen, and began to write.

Dear Sandro,

I don't even know where to begin. I suppose I should start by saying that I'm sorry for disappearing, for not answering your calls, for shutting you out. I know you've been wondering what's been going on with me, and you deserve to know the truth. But the truth is, I don't know if I can tell you—not yet.

I've been living in a nightmare, Sandro. A nightmare I never imagined I would have to face alone. I'm pregnant. I'm carrying your children—our children. I found out not long after you left for another campaign trip. At first, I was so happy. The thought of starting a family with you brought me so much joy. But then reality set in.

I didn't know how to tell you. I didn't know how to interrupt your perfect, controlled life with news that would turn everything upside down. Your career has always been your priority, and I've always tried to understand that. I've stood by and watched you dedicate yourself to your work, to your province, to your family's legacy, all while putting us second.

I kept waiting for the right moment, thinking there would be a perfect time to tell you about the babies. But every time I tried, something got in the way—your meetings, your speeches, your plans for the future. And now... now it's too late.

Because I didn't just lose you, Sandro. I lost one of our babies. One of the triplets I was carrying didn't make it. And you weren't here. You weren't here to hold my hand, to tell me that everything would be okay, to grieve with me. I had to do it alone.

I've cried myself to sleep so many nights, wishing you were here, wishing you cared enough to notice that something was wrong. But you didn't. You didn't even know.

And maybe that's why I'm writing this letter—to finally let out all the anger and heartache I've been holding inside. I don't know who to be mad at anymore. You? Myself? The universe? I never wanted to feel this way about you. I loved you, Sandro. I still do, in some small, broken way. But the man I fell in love with feels so far away now, like a distant memory I can barely remember.

---

Alexia paused, her hand trembling as she set down the pen. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, threatening to spill over, but she blinked them back. The ache in her chest was unbearable, a pain that felt too big for words.

She hadn't meant for things to get this bad. She hadn't meant to shut him out for so long. But with every passing day, the gap between them had grown wider, and the secret she carried had become too heavy to bear alone.

She had convinced herself that she was protecting him—protecting his career, his reputation, his future. But deep down, she knew it wasn't just about him. It was about her, too. She was terrified of what would happen if she told him the truth. Would he drop everything to be with her? Or would he do what he always did—put his career first and leave her to pick up the pieces?

The uncertainty had paralyzed her, and now, the moment had passed. She had lost one of their children, and Sandro hadn't even known he was going to be a father.

She picked up the pen again and continued.

"I'm angry, Sandro. I'm angry at you for not being here when I needed you the most. I'm angry at myself for letting things get to this point, for not telling you sooner. But most of all, I'm angry at the world for taking away something so precious from us."

"I wanted to be happy. I wanted to tell you about the triplets, to see your face when you found out we were going to have three babies instead of one. But that happiness was stolen from me, from us. And now, I don't know if I can ever get it back."

"I don't know what the future holds for us, Sandro. I don't even know if you'll ever read this letter. But I needed to write it. I needed to put my feelings down on paper because keeping them bottled up inside is tearing me apart."

"I'm sorry for everything I didn't say. I'm sorry for not being the partner you needed me to be. But I'm also sorry for the woman I've become, the one who is too afraid to face you with the truth."

"Maybe one day I'll be able to tell you all of this in person. Maybe one day, we'll be able to heal from this together. But right now, I can't. Right now, I need to protect what's left of me—and of our family."

"I hope you understand, even if you never know why."

Love, Rafhaela

She put the pen down and stared at the letter, her vision blurred with unshed tears. Every word she had written felt like a piece of her heart being torn away, leaving her raw and exposed.

For a moment, she considered folding the letter and slipping it into an envelope, addressing it to Sandro, and finally letting him in on the truth. But as she sat there, staring at the words on the page, she knew she couldn't do it. Not yet.

The wound was still too fresh, the pain too sharp. She wasn't ready to face the consequences of sending the letter—of what it would mean for them, for their future.

With a heavy sigh, Alexia folded the letter in half and tucked it into a drawer beside her bed. It would stay there, hidden away, just like the rest of the secrets she had been keeping. Maybe one day, she would have the strength to send it. But not today.

Today, the letter would remain unsent, and the distance between them would continue to grow.

Alexia stood, her hand resting on her belly, feeling the faint movements of the two remaining lives growing inside her. She had to be strong for them. She had to keep going, even if it meant carrying the weight of her heartache alone.

As she turned off the light and climbed into bed, Alexia closed her eyes, knowing that tomorrow would bring more of the same—a life lived in silence, with the letter never sent, and a love left in the shadows.