She couldn't pick it up. It just – she couldn't. There were too many memories attached to it, too many emotions. She couldn't handle remembering.
Curse him. Curse him for having this hold on her. It was over, she had said the words herself. It's not like he had fought her on it. He reasoning was sound, there was no hole, no flaw he could have used to change her mind. Damn her perfectionist personality.
She needed him, needed what she'd so easily given away, and yet, she couldn't do it.
Sending plane letters had always been their thing; ever since they had started dating. Her job as a journalist would take her far from home; far from him. This had been their solution. He would send with her a piece of himself, something from the heart.
After take off, she'd open his letter, keep it with her, and hold it when she talked with him on the phone.
She'd done the same. When he went away on some business related trip, she'd send him a letter. Thusly, they were able to stay together even when apart.
Was this what he was trying to tell her? Was he using this concept so close to her heart, to get back at her?
No. It was never in his nature to be cruel. Difficult at times, yes, that was one of the things that she, debatably, enjoyed about him.
Did he know how much this hurt her, how much it killed her to see his unopened letter?
Sticking her pen down the side of the envelope, she gently slit the side open. Fingering the edge of the page, she nibbled on her bottom lip, then gently pulled the sheet of white paper from its envelope.
Closing her eyes she opened it, letting her tears fall silently.
She was glad for the tears that clouded her vision. This way, the words on the page could be considered misread. She could convince herself they weren't there.
I still love you.