The Last Letter
The wind howled through the empty streets as Oliver sat by the dim
candlelight, his trembling hands clutching a faded photograph. The edges
were worn, the colors muted with time, but the smiles on their faces
remained unchanged—an echo of a happiness that now felt like a dream.
It had been three years since Evelyn left. Not by choice, not by anger, but by
something crueler—fate. A winter night, icy roads, a phone call that
shattered his world. They had been planning their future together—choosing
a house, talking about children, dreaming of old age side by side. And then,
in a single moment, all of it was gone.
The accident had left him empty, moving through life like a ghost in his own
skin. The world continued around him, but he had long stopped being a part
of it. Friends tried to pull him back, but their voices faded like whispers in the
wind. The house they were meant to share remained a hollow shell, filled
only with memories and silence.
Tonight was different. Tonight, he had made a decision.
Oliver pulled out a letter he had written weeks ago, smoothing the creases
with careful fingers. He had rewritten it a dozen times, never quite finding
the right words, but now it didn’t matter. He placed the letter next to the
photograph, then stood up and walked to the window. The city lights below
flickered like distant stars, indifferent to the loneliness that wrapped around
him like a second skin.
He had tried—tried to live, tried to move on. But the weight of Evelyn’s
absence was too much. It was not just the loss of her presence but the loss
of the life they had planned, the laughter that would never fill their home,
the children they would never hold.
He took a deep breath, letting the cold air seep into his lungs. He wasn’t
afraid.
A sudden knock at the door broke the silence. He froze.
Another knock, hesitant yet insistent.
He considered ignoring it, but something in him—some fragile piece of
humanity still clinging to existence—compelled him forward.
When he opened the door, a young woman stood there, holding a package.
She was unfamiliar, yet there was something in her eyes—kindness, maybe
recognition.
“Are you Oliver Hastings?” she asked, shivering slightly from the cold.
He hesitated before nodding.
She let out a breath, relieved. “I—I know this is strange. But I was asked to
give you this.” She extended the package, wrapped in brown paper, edges
carefully folded.
Oliver took it with a frown. “Who asked you?”
The woman hesitated. “A friend of yours. A long time ago. She… she left it
with me before she passed.”
His heart stopped.
“I meant to give it to you sooner,” she continued, her voice softer now. “But I
—I wasn’t sure if it was the right time. But tonight, something told me I had
to.”
Oliver’s fingers tightened around the package as his chest ached with
something between fear and longing.
The woman gave him a sad smile. “Take care, Oliver.”
And then she was gone.
Shutting the door, he sat back down, staring at the package. With trembling
hands, he unwrapped it, revealing a small wooden box. Inside, neatly folded,
was a letter. His breath hitched as he recognized the handwriting.
Evelyn’s.
My love,
If you’re reading this, then I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye the way I
wanted to. And for that, I’m sorry. I know you, Oliver. I know the way you hold
on to things, the way you love so deeply that the loss feels unbearable. But
please, don’t let my absence take you away from the world. Don’t let the
pain steal the light from your eyes.
Live, my love. Live the life we dreamed of, even if I can’t be there to see it.
Find happiness, even if it takes time. And know that wherever I am, I will
always be with you.
Always.
Evelyn
Tears blurred his vision as he clutched the letter to his chest. The weight of
grief, the suffocating sorrow, pressed down on him—but for the first time in
years, there was something else. A whisper of warmth, a sliver of hope.
Maybe, just maybe, he could try.
But tonight, he would grieve one last time.
