Two days later, she asks me if I still think she's going to survive. I tell her I do.
"Thank you," she replied. "Thank you for believing in me."
"Open this when I'm gone," she says, handing me a bound gray diary.
"You won't be gone," I say, slowly taking the diary from her.
"Whether it be now or in fifty years," she adds. "Open that diary."
"Okay," I say.
"Okay," she says.
YOU ARE READING
letters
Romancethey were five when they started writing. they were seventeen when they stopped. he was eighteen when he read her letters. he was nineteen when everything fell apart. +cover creds to abhaya ♥︎
