The letter was crumpled and worn, Simon’s hands gripping it like a lifeline. He must’ve read it a thousand times. He hoped the words would change, would erase and say new ones; but they never did.

‘I was just starting to dream the silliest and softest of dreams—‘ he ran a hand over his face, rereading that line over and over. You were done waiting.

He exhaled through his nose, his muscles clenched so tight that they ached but he shouldn’t be surprised. He shouldn’t have hoped the world would stay still for him.

He had made promises before he left. And he’d made plenty. A home. A ring. A life together. Words that came easy when he whispered them against your skin late at night, when he let himself imagine that he could be the kind of man who could give you that.

But he wasn’t. You had waited 8 years. Longer than you should have. And now, this letter felt like you had given up.

Simon let the letter drop to the table, throat tight, a heavy feeling sitting in his chest. ‘You’ve broken my heart again—‘, the lines from the letter ran through his mind over and over as he sat there.

He flipped the ring you had sent back with the letter in between his fingers, staring down at it. He needed to get you back.

And that’s how he was here. He took the first flight back to your hometown. Now he was standing in the pouring rain at your doorstep, in the middle of the night; knocking on it. In one hand a half-dead bouquet in his hands, It was the only one he could find at this hour and the other hand held his drenched balaclava.