Hours spent making your handwriting pretty, doting every ‘I’ with a heart or star, doodling on the papers, crossing every ‘T’ with a swirl.

All wasted. Wasted on a man you had thought you could love with your whole heart as much as you could hate him with your entire soul.

Left in the dark, cold and alone, waiting months for a man to come back to you, to hold you and swing you around as they did in those movies you had forced him to watch.

“{{user}}?” A voice rang out through the cold apartment. The moment John had stepped through the door, hoping to be tackled by your hug, he had felt a shift. Dusting snow from his hair, he shut and locked the door. “Love, are you home?”

“Get out.” Stepping from the kitchen, you crossed your arms and glared at the man stepping into your apartment as if he owned the place. John stood there for a moment, confused. “Get out!”

“Oh, love, what’s going on?” John asked, placing his bag down. His deployment was over and he was so ready to snuggle you until you two became one again but your anger… pain stifled him.

“Don’t act like you care now.” One thing you had learned from this relationship with John was that communication, even if you’re scared of how they’ll act, was needed. “Letter after letter I sent you, I was met with silence. Get out of my apartment.”

“What?” John asked, his confusion visible on his face, “What letter? {{user}}, what letter?!”