Beauty and the Beast

Day 28

My dear, my darling Silke,
I don't know what drew me to Lina. She was nothing compared to you. While she was beautiful, independent, and she reminded me of you. But there was one thing she had that you didn't—she was a National Socialist.
You were never politically active. Whenever we discussed politics it was usually a monologue of me taking satirical jabs at politicians and you reacting to them. Lina was a fervent National Socialist, and although she didn't approve of my political humor, she certainly put up with it.
Little by little, the more time Lina and I spent together, the less inclined I was to return your calls, or to even write back to you. I don't know why. Whenever I would berate myself for inadvertently jilting you and try to recall your face, all I would see was Lina's face.
We went to the same bar you and I went to when you surprised me in Kiel one day. We sat at the same table; ordered the same drinks. I found that the more time I spent with Lina the more your face seemed to be slipping away from me, eluding me.
You diligently wrote; you called me every day. And in my arrogance, it got to a point where I wouldn't even bother opening your letters; where I would disconnect the phone when the time you usually called at was nigh. It wasn't until the day I got engaged to Lina that I actually bothered to send you anything.
I'm sorry. I don't know why, or how it came to this.
You didn't reply. And just like that, your calls ceased; I received no more letters from you.
You ended up telling your father everything—about me, about what we did. The fact that you slept with a man that in the end would never marry you set him off. Later on, as I passed through Berlin one last time, I would hear from bar gossip that he beat you up so badly you had to go to the hospital for superficial wounds to your face.
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I would take it all back if I could.
Your father, unbeknownst to me, was a friend of Admiral Erich Raeder, who immediately had me dismissed from the navy. You don't know how much that hurt me. To this day, I can never move past it.
What went wrong, Silke? We were so good together...I loved you passionately, fiercely. How could a girl that I had barely know for even a week make me forget all about my lover of two years? God works in mysterious ways, I suppose—and I'm not even a religious man.
At Lima's behest, I joined the Nazi Party. A while later, I met Heinrich Himmler, to whom I outlined a plan for a Secret State Police. Today I am the military dictator of Bohemia and Moravia in all but official title—all thanks to Lina.
We had two sons together, one year apart. Klaus, then Heider. They aren't twins.
Silke is the culmination of our reconciliation. Apparently we had fallen so out of love with each other due to my frequent absences that we were so close to filing for divorce. Thankfully, we reconciled, so much so that we had her. She was born on Easter Sunday, 1939.
I've never, ever forgotten you, Silke. Although I burnt all our photos, all our letters in the fireplace of my home in Halle when I returned from Kiel, you still live on in my heart and in my mind. As much as I tried to deny it, i know deep in my heart that if I had only returned your love as wholeheartedly as you did mine, Lina would never have swayed me.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
Do you still think about me? I want to believe that you do. I want to believe that somewhere in Germany, you still love me, that you still want me. I want to believe that the fire of our love is still smoldering somewhere, and that we only need to ignite it for it to leap and crackle once more.
Even if you don't, I love you
Forever yours
Reinhard.