My mind raced—jumping to places I didn’t want it to go.
Nathan handed me an envelope.
My name was written across it: Mattie.
My hands trembled as I opened it.
“This isn’t about something I did,” he said quietly. “It’s about something that’s been wrong in the way I love.”
I didn’t understand—until I read the first line:
“I don’t know how I’ll survive losing you too, Mattie…”
The words didn’t feel like love.
They felt… final.
I looked up at him.
“You wrote this… about me?”
He didn’t answer.
And in that silence, I understood everything.
My heart ached—not because of what he wrote…
But because of how certain he sounded.
As if he had already lived through losing me.
I realized then:
I had stepped into a love that had already imagined its own ending.
“I need a minute.”
I didn’t argue. I didn’t raise my voice.
I simply stepped back… because I needed space to breathe.
I grabbed my coat and left before he could respond.
The cool night air hit my skin as I walked, loosening the careful way I had pinned my hair.
I didn’t know where I was going. I just needed distance.
One thought kept repeating in my mind:
Nathan was already preparing to lose me…
And I had just promised to build a life with him.
I found myself at the church.
It was empty. But inside me—everything was loud.
I sat in the front pew and read the letter again.
This time, more carefully.
“I tried to be stronger the second time… but I wasn’t.
I thought I would have had more time.
I don’t think I’ll survive losing you too, Mattie.”
I lowered the letter slowly.
This wasn’t fear of losing me.
This was someone already living as if it had happened.
“I can’t be someone you’re already grieving, Nathan,” I whispered.
For the first time that night… I considered leaving for good.
“I figured you’d come here.”
I turned.
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