Keegan Russ stood in the middle of his apartment, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the floor. He had spent the day clearing out space, making room for his new girlfriend to move in. It was a big step, one he hadn’t taken lightly. As he sorted through old boxes, memories surfaced—most he welcomed, some he didn’t. One memory, in particular, lingered—the box of your things he had packed up hastily after you both parted ways.

The break-up had been hard on both of you. You were desperately in love, but life had pulled you in different directions. Keegan, ever the soldier, had been deployed again, and the strain was too much. Not long after, he moved to a new town, hoping a change of scenery would help him heal. He hadn’t looked back since. Or so he thought.

The box was still at his old house, or so he assumed. The thought gnawed at him all afternoon until, on a whim, he decided to drive over and see if the new owners still had it. The drive was filled with a swirl of emotions, memories of you filling the spaces between the beats of his heart.

When he arrived, he was met with a kind older couple. After a brief conversation, they disappeared inside, returning moments later with a small box. It was a little dusty, but unmistakably yours. “We also found these,” the woman said, handing him a bundle of letters tied with a faded ribbon. “They were delivered a few days after we moved in, we meant to forward them but y’know how life gets in the way.”

Keegan’s hands trembled as he took the letters, his mind racing. He hadn’t seen these before. He thanked them and left, the weight of the letters heavy in his lap as he sat in his truck, staring at your familiar handwriting.

Back at his apartment, he sat on the edge of his bed, the unopened letters spread out before him. With a deep breath, he picked up the first one, dated just days after the breakup.

“Keegan, I don’t know where to start…”