“I don’t know how I’ll survive losing you too, Mattie…” The words didn’t feel like love. They felt… final. I looked up at him. “You wrote this… about me?” He didn’t answer. And in that silence, I understood everything. My heart ached—not because of what he wrote… But because of how certain he sounded. As if he had already lived through losing me. I realized then: I had stepped into a love that had already imagined its own ending. “I need a minute.” I didn’t argue. I didn’t raise my voice. I simply stepped back… because I needed space to breathe. I grabbed my coat and left before he could respond. The cool night air hit my skin as I walked, loosening the careful way I had pinned my hair. I didn’t know where I was going. I just needed distance. One thought kept repeating in my mind: Nathan was already preparing to lose me… And I had just promised to build a life with him. I found myself at the church. It was empty. But inside me—everything was loud. I sat in the front pew and read the letter again.
This time, more carefully. “I tried to be stronger the second time… but I wasn’t. I thought I would have had more time. I don’t think I’ll survive losing you too, Mattie.” I lowered the letter slowly. This wasn’t fear of losing me. This was someone already living as if it had happened. “I can’t be someone you’re already grieving, Nathan,” I whispered. For the first time that night… I considered leaving for good. “I figured you’d come here.” I turned. For illustrative purposes only Nathan stood a few steps away. Not rushing. Not reaching. Just… waiting. “Did you write letters for them too?” I asked. “Your wives… before?” “Yes.” “After they were gone?” “Yes, Mattie.” I swallowed hard. “So, I’m next?” “Come with me,” he said. I hesitated. “If you still want to leave after… I won’t stop you, Mattie.” That mattered more than I expected. So I went.
We drove in silence. Not for comfort—but because I needed to understand. We stopped at a cemetery. Nathan walked ahead. I followed. Then I saw them—two graves, side by side. Different names. Different years. But connected in a way that needed no explanation. “This is where I learned what silence costs, Mattie,” he said. “I laid them to rest with things I never said.” And for the first time, I saw it clearly: This wasn’t just fear. It was regret that had never been resolved. “My first wife was sick for a long time,” he said. “I kept thinking there would be more time… so I didn’t say what mattered.” “She didn’t need protection like that… she needed honesty,” I said softly. “My second wife… I didn’t get the chance at all. Those letters… are everything I didn’t say.” “That’s not love, Nathan,” I said quietly. “That’s fear. And I don’t know if I can live inside that.” “But it’s the only way I knew how to stop wasting time.” “Then stop writing endings for me,” I said. He looked at me. “If you’re so afraid of losing time, then stop living like it’s already gone, Nathan. Because I won’t stay where I’m already being mourned.” His eyes filled.
And in that moment, I understood something clearly: I wasn’t the one slipping away. We drove home in silence. But this time… it felt different. The house hadn’t changed. But I had. The drawer was still open. The letters still there. I picked one up and sat across from him. “I don’t want to lose you, Mattie,” he said softly, “but I finally understand that I’ve been losing you already by loving you like you were about to go.” “I don’t need more time with you. I need to stop wasting the time I have. I can’t promise I won’t be afraid. But I can promise I won’t turn that fear into a future you’re forced to live in. I want to be here with you… while you’re here with me. Not ahead of it. Not after it. Just here.” And for the first time… I believed him.
I looked down at the letter in my hands. Nathan had been preparing to lose me… Before he ever allowed himself to have me. But I wasn’t going to live like that. If I stayed… It wouldn’t be to prove him wrong. It would be to teach him how to love someone who was still here. And for the first time that night— We were standing in the same moment. Together.
