Simon had thought about burning the letters. At first he’d left them unopened. Then he’d started stacking them in a drawer. Then reading them. Now he knew the handwriting before he even picked up the envelope.

Every few weeks another one arrived at his military post box. No return address. Just her. Months ago, he would’ve tossed them aside without a second thought. After all, the relationship was over.

He’d buried himself in deployments, training exercises, reports, missions. Anything to avoid looking too closely at the wreckage he’d left behind. Anything to avoid admitting what he’d done.

She never knew about the affair. Never knew why he’d grown distant. Never knew why every phone call felt colder than the last. She only knew that one day Simon Riley stopped choosing her.

And somehow that made everything worse. The letters kept coming. Pages full of half-finished thoughts. Stories about her day. Questions she’d never get answers to. Confessions she probably regretted writing.

Sometimes angry. Sometimes desperate. Sometimes so painfully normal that he had to put them away. His girlfriend didn’t know they existed. Simon made sure of that.

Simon was getting tired of it. Tired of the letters. Tired of having to deal with her emotions. Yet he continued to pick them up.

He confidently walked towards the post office. Not speaking his usually cold demeanor and intimidating walk striving through the quiet halls.

The jingle of his keys quiet. Yet something felt off. His eyes narrowed, as he stared at the PO Box…