Autumn had always been their season.
Elena sat by the old oak bench in Everwood Park, the one where they first met ten years ago. The golden leaves twirled around her like soft memories, rustling with each gust of wind, echoing the laughter of the past. Her fingers trembled slightly as she held the final letter in her hands, the paper slightly wrinkled, edges worn with love.
It was from Ethan.
They were both writers. Their love was built not just with moments, but with words. In the early days, when life felt too loud or busy, they wrote letters to each other. Not because they had to—but because that was how their souls spoke most clearly. Over ten years, Ethan had written Elena 999 letters. Each one tucked into a wooden chest they kept by their fireplace. But now, only one remained. The thousandth.
She remembered their first meeting: Elena, sketching trees in a leather notebook; Ethan, tripping over his own feet as he stared at her too long. He offered her a coffee to apologize. She declined—then asked him to sit. That’s how it all began.
They were opposites. She was quiet, introverted. He was wild-hearted, unpredictable. But their love grew like ivy: slow, persistent, unstoppable.
Then came the winter of last year. The diagnosis—aggressive cancer. Ethan tried to hide the pain behind his ever-present grin, but Elena saw the weariness. He told her he had one final letter to write, one that would take time.
He passed three months ago.
Now, sitting where they shared so many sunsets, Elena opened the envelope with trembling hands. The smell of his cologne, faint but still there, hit her first. Then the words.
My Dearest Elena,
If you're reading this, I’m not beside you. But I promise—I am.
I didn’t want to say goodbye. How do you say that to someone who has given you everything?
Every sunrise I woke up beside you was a gift. Every letter I wrote was a piece of my soul, sealed in ink just for you. But this one... this is the hardest.
I wanted to make it to a thousand letters not because of the number, but because I hoped—deep down—you’d have a thousand reminders of how deeply, wildly, and unconditionally I loved you.
This isn’t an end. Not for me.
You remember how you always said you feared being alone? You're not. You never will be. Look at the leaves. Feel the wind. I’ll be there, in the hush between heartbeats, in the quiet moments you used to fear.
You made my life beautiful. You made the pain worth it. And if I had the choice to live a hundred lifetimes, I’d find you in every single one.
Thank you for loving me.
And now... write your thousandth letter. To me.
With all I ever was,
Ethan
Tears spilled freely down Elena’s cheeks, landing like tiny stars on the letter. The ache in her chest was raw, but not empty. Ethan had given her a love so deep, even death couldn’t silence it.
She pulled out her notebook.
“Dear Ethan…” she wrote.
And as the leaves danced in the wind, a thousand letters fluttered in her heart.
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