In a life of love and loss, of tears and laughter, of betrayals both given and received, of hurt that healed, of brokenness that mended — I write this letter carrying you in mind, the one person I’ve loved the least, hurt, and betrayed the most.

So this letter is my attempt to meet you where you’ve been waiting — somewhere between forgiveness and rediscovery.

Where does one really start in telling a story as delicate as this? I can’t even pretend that this is an apology, because I’ve still not fully learnt to love you — to search for your eyes in a crowded room, to reach out for your hands, to dry your watery eyes, or give you a shoulder to lay on.

Maybe I never knew how to stay. I’ve walked away from gentle hands and soft voices, always chasing the next version of myself that might be easier to love. But somehow, you’ve remained — quiet, unwavering, patient. You never asked for anything more than what I already was.

I once read that when a swan loses its soulmate, it drops itself through a forked branch to un-alive itself. I keep searching for my swan in other lakes, while you’ve been patiently waiting — waiting on me.

In a world where choices are given, I choose you — yes, you, the trembling hands that dared to write this letter — always and forever.