“That’s the letter I wrote to her,” he said softly, almost like he was talking to a ghost.
I looked down at the paper and slowly opened it. The handwriting was undoubtedly his.
The first words nearly knocked the air out of my chest:
HAPPY 14TH BIRTHDAY, OLI.
I TOLD MYSELF I WOULDN’T WRITE THIS. THAT I WOULD STAY IN MY PLACE. THAT I’D JUST BE THE PROTECTIVE OLDER BROTHER FIGURE I PROMISED MYSELF I’D BE THE DAY I FIRST HELD YOU AS A PUP AND YOU CLUNG TO MY SHIRT LIKE I WAS YOUR
WHOLE WORLD.
BUT I’VE FAILED MISERABLY AT STAYING IN MY
PLACE.
I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHEN IT HAPPENED-WHEN YOU STOPPED BEING THE GIRL I PROTECTED AND BECAME THE GIRL I WATCHED FROM A DISTANCE, TERRIFIED OF WHAT I FELT. I FOUGHT IT. SPIRITS, I FOUGHT IT HARDER THAN I’VE EVER FOUGHT ANYTHING. I’VE ALWAYS SHARED EVERYTHING WITH MY BROTHERS-OUR VICTORIES, OUR PAIN, OUR RESPONSIBILITIES. BUT WITH YOU… I
COULDN’T. I DIDN’T WANT TO.
I HATED HOW MY CHEST BURNED WHEN YOU SMILED AT THEM LONGER THAN YOU SMILED AT ME. I HATED HOW JEALOUS I GOT WHEN THEY MADE YOU LAUGH. I HATED HOW SMALL I FELT WHEN YOU GAVE THEM YOUR ATTENTION LIKE IT DIDN’T COST YOU A THING-BECAUSE FOR ME, EVEN A SECOND OF YOUR GAZE FELT LIKE
EVERYTHING.
I DIDN’T WANT TO FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU. BUT I
DID.
AND I DON’T EXPECT ANYTHING IN RETURN. I KNOW I’M OLDER. I KNOW THIS IS TOO MUCH. YOU’RE JUST FOURTEEN. YOU PROBABLY DON’T EVEN UNDERSTAND WHAT I’M SAYING. BUT THIS IS JUST ME BEING BRAVE FOR ONCE.
BUT IF YOU FEEL ANYTHING AT ALL, EVEN JUST A LITTLE… WRITE BACK. YOU DON’T HAVE TO SAY
MUCH. JUST LET ME KNOW HOW YOU FEEL.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, OLIVIA.
I HOPE TODAY, YOU FELT LOVED.
BECAUSE YOU ARE.
-LENNOX
I read it again.
And again.
My lips parted slightly as I read the last line. I stared at it. My heart cracked a little more with each word. My hands trembled.
I looked up at him, barely able to hide the confusion from my face. “This… this was for her?” I asked, trying my best not to scream.
Knowing Lennox was in love with me was crazy. That means I wasn’t the only one in love with him-with them. My feelings weren’t one-sided… he also loved me… he wrote a confession letter to me.
“Yes,” he said, watching me carefully. “I gave it to her on her birthday. Slipped it into a box of gifts I gave her.”
My mind was racing. I never saw this letter. I never got it. I never opened this box. Who opened the box? Who had read the letter?
“She gave me a reply. It’s in the envelope too.”
My hands froze.
I didn’t write a reply.
How can I write a reply for a message I never received?
What the hell is happening?
Panicking, not saying a word, I reached into the envelope again.
There was another folded paper inside.
My supposed reply.
My stomach twisted as I touched it. Something wasn’t right.
But I had to see what it said.
I had to know what I supposedly wrote.
Olivia’s POV
With trembling fingers, I reached into the envelope and pulled out the last paper.
It was folded neatly, like someone had taken their time with it. But the moment I touched it, I felt sick. Like something was wrong. Like my soul already knew this would hurt.
This was supposed to be my reply.
But I never wrote a reply.
Still, I unfolded it.
My eyes scanned the words.
And suddenly, I couldn’t breathe.
No.
No, no, no.
This wasn’t me. I didn’t write this.
But the words… the words felt like knives. Every sentence hurt more than the former. They were mean. Cold. Cruel.
I couldn’t believe anyone would say these things to Lennox. Not even someone who hated him.
But this letter-whoever wrote it-pretended to be me.
In this letter, I didn’t just reject him. I hurt him… I tormented him. The words were words that could kill anyone… they were words that hit Lennox in all the wrong places. It was perfectly crafted to hurt him… perfectly crafted to kill and destroy him.
Tears filled my eyes.
I read it again, even though it broke my heart.
My hand started to shake. My knees felt weak. The letter slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor.
Lennox didn’t move. He didn’t say anything.
I couldn’t believe he had carried this pain in silence for years.
2/10
I couldn’t believe he got to read something like this- and worst of all, all these years, he thought it came from me. It could have been kinder if the person who wrote this letter had plainly rejected him, but he or she didn’t do that. Rather, they did something worse than rejection.
They killed my loving Lennox.
A sob slipped out before I could stop it. I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to hold in the rest-but I couldn’t.
The tears poured out fast.
Now I understood. Now I understood why Lennox became a monster to me, why he hated me… why he derived pleasure in causing me pain. All that was revenge-to get back at me for my supposed words. This was why he went for Anita, my best friend-to flirt with her in my face.
This letter was why he said he’d never want me-not even over his dead body.
I couldn’t stop crying.
3/10
I felt like my heart had been ripped open, and now I was just bleeding all over the floor of his room.
That letter… it didn’t just hurt me-it destroyed me.
Because for the first time, I truly understood what Lennox had been carrying all these years.
And even though I didn’t write those words, even though I knew deep down they didn’t come from me… they still had my name on them. My handwriting. My necklace. My memories of us.
That was enough to make him believe.
Enough to make him hate.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.