A Love Across Worlds

Chapter 4: A Glimpse of Each Other

Bella's POV

It was a chilly Saturday afternoon when I finally decided to do something I'd been toying with for a while. George had become such a steady presence in my life, someone I could lean on without even realizing it. His letters were filled with warmth, humor, and the kind of honesty I hadn't felt in ages. He'd asked me about my life, my dreams, and I'd shared as much as I could with words. But today, I wanted to give him something more.

I reached for my old Polaroid camera, blowing the dust off before slipping on my coat and heading out to the trail. The forest was quiet, the air heavy with the scent of pine, and the mist hung low, giving everything a soft, muted feel. I walked until I reached the little clearing I'd told him about. I took a few pictures-the trees, the creek, the way the light danced through the leaves. The place felt magical, like my own little refuge, and I hoped he would see that in the photos.

On a whim, I snapped one more photo-of myself, standing by the edge of the creek with the faintest hint of a smile. It felt strange, capturing myself like this, but I wanted him to see me as I was, not the broken pieces I'd carried for so long. I slipped the photos into an envelope with my next letter, my fingers trembling slightly as I sealed it. Part of me worried he'd think it was silly, that I'd shared too much. But I trusted him, and that made all the difference.

Two weeks later, George's response arrived. His letters always felt like tiny gifts, and this one was no exception. I opened it carefully, feeling a rush of anticipation.

Dear Bella,

When I saw those pictures, I have to admit, I was speechless. They're beautiful. I can see why you feel so at peace there-it's like something out of a dream. And you... You look lovely, Bella, in that quiet, captivating way I'd imagined but hadn't been able to put into words.

It's funny, I used to think I knew what people looked like through their letters, but I was wrong. You're even more than I pictured, and that's saying something. I almost feel like I'm standing there with you, in that little clearing, hearing the same sounds, feeling the same calm. It makes me wonder if we'll ever have the chance to see it together in person.

There's a part of me that thinks we will. Maybe that's naïve, but I feel like we were meant to cross paths. You've become more than just words on a page, Bella. You're a part of my life now, in a way I didn't expect.

Thank you for sharing that piece of yourself with me. It means more than you know.

Yours always,
George

His words sent a warmth through me, a warmth that settled deep, making me feel connected to him in a way that transcended distance. It was a strange feeling, having someone see me so clearly, someone who seemed to understand the unspoken things I could barely admit to myself.

As the weeks passed, we kept exchanging letters, each one growing longer and more intimate. Our words were like bridges, reaching across the miles and carrying pieces of ourselves with them. I shared stories of growing up, memories of days spent reading in the small town library, of the way I loved the sea even though I rarely saw it. George told me about the nights he and Fred stayed up late planning ridiculous schemes, about his mum's homemade dinners, and his father's strange obsession with anything from the non-magical world.

Then, one evening, a surprise arrived in the mail-a small envelope, thicker than usual, and when I opened it, a photograph slipped out. It was a picture of George, grinning broadly, standing in what looked like a bustling shop filled with colorful boxes and odd knick-knacks. He wore a mischievous look, his red hair slightly tousled, and it made me smile instantly.

Another photo slipped out behind it-a landscape this time. A sweeping green hill with the outline of a village below, so vivid I could almost feel the wind. I unfolded the letter, feeling my heart beat faster as I read.

Dear Bella,

I thought it was about time you saw a piece of my world, too. The shop is mine and Fred's, the place where we spend most of our days, causing trouble and trying to make people laugh. That hill behind our house is my favorite place to escape. I go there when I need to think, when I need to remember that the world is bigger than my small worries.

It's strange, seeing you and me in these pictures, in places we both hold close. It makes me wonder what it would be like to stand there together, to feel your hand in mine as we look out over that view.

I'm not sure where this journey is taking us, Bella, but I know that I'm glad you're a part of it. You've changed something in me, made me see the world with new eyes. I used to think I needed excitement to feel alive, but you've shown me that there's a different kind of magic in the quiet moments, too.

Yours, always,
George

I held his letter and photos close, feeling a strange sense of longing. This was more than just letters, more than shared secrets. George was someone who saw the hidden corners of my heart, who made me feel like I was worthy of love, worthy of something good. And for the first time since Edward had left, I found myself hoping-hoping for a future, hoping for a chance to see this connection through.

It wasn't just words on paper anymore. We were real to each other, as real as the places we held dear, as real as the feelings we'd shared.

I closed my eyes, imagining myself standing on that hill beside him, the wind in my hair, and I knew, without a doubt, that I wanted to make that dream a reality