The Twelfth Letter

Dear Lily,

    Two months have passed since my last letter, and I confess, I've carried a thousand half-written messages in my head. Each time something happened, my first impulse was to tell you, to pour out all the details as they came. But I have been teaching myself not to let my world spin entirely around you, to live with the thought of you without letting it swallow me whole. Still, the weight of these past weeks has settled on my chest, and I find myself needing to lay these moments down simply, like small stones in your hand.

    Life has been a strange tapestry of fleeting wishes and sharp pains. At an event, someone asked if I had a girlfriend. I lied, laughing it off with a pretend photo, but for a fierce, sudden ache, I wished it could have been your picture I held out with pride, a truth I could have shared. Another time, I reluctantly went camping, preferring gentle walks in the park to the discomfort of the wild. Yet, under a moon so much larger and brighter than the one in the city, the stillness around me reminded me of your presence, and I wished you could have been there, too.

    Not all of it was gentle. I quarreled with my parents over my brother and his wife, feeling the sting of what I saw as unfairness. For weeks, I hid in my room, letting silence become my protest - a cold punishment that only poisoned me. It was AJ who finally softened me with a simple question: what good could ever come from shutting them out? I am still angry, but I am learning to see from my parents' eyes and to make amends.

    I missed the lunar eclipse I'd planned to watch, falling asleep early - a small emblem of everything I keep promising myself I will not miss. At school, a student’s endless profanity and interruptions tested me again and again. My boss said he must pick a struggle, but I see something else: a boy craving attention, a story told by his younger brother's similar mischief.

    Then came the hardest news. My cat, the one I've always loved as if she were my little sister, fell ill. What I thought was a fever was a diagnosis I was not prepared for; tooth resorption caused by leukemia. When the vet said the word, I broke down and wept as if every small misfortune of the past weeks had finally claimed me in one devastating sweep. She is still at the clinic as I write this and each hour is a prayer that she will find her way back to the home where she has always belonged.

    Amidst this darkness, a small light has appeared. I was hired today as a part-time baker’s assistant. Shame often eats at me for having no steady work and relying on my parents, but baking makes me feel like myself again. I only worry how I will balance it with my studies, which feel stalled. My supervisor’s patience feels worn thin and each attempt to gather data ends in silence. Sometimes I laugh at myself, wondering if I am simply too foolish for this, but laughter is easier than despair.

    And now, another wedding approaches. One of my closest friends will be married just a day before you, and he has asked me to stand as his groomsman. I will be there smiling beside him, but inside, I know it will feel like the last heavy blow before the killing one. His joy will be the final strike I absorb before your wedding arrives the very next day, the day I have braced myself for all these months.

    It is only two weeks until your wedding now. I hope your preparations are gentle, that joy fills each day, and that every wish you carry into that moment finds its way to you.

Yours,
H