A Love Letter Novels & Stories

I step out of the car and approach slowly, fingers tracing the engraved letters: “Olivia Kingsley, beloved daughter, wife and mother, always in our hearts.” I kneel, resting my hands on the cool stone. A bouquet of fresh lilies, her favorite, rests against the base. I had picked them up on the way here, the soft fragrance a small comfort amidst the storm in my chest.

His shoulders twitched as he moved, muscles clenching by each movement. Come on Phoebe, you can do it. “uh..Conrad?” my eyes flustered shut impulsively. “I'm Phoebe…uhm fifi, I've had a crush on you for years, I wrote this for you…” My hands trembled as I held out my letter, my eyes still closed. My heart tightened as he took the letter, a small smile forming at the side of my lips. This was it. He would read my letter and understand how deeply in love I was.

After making sure she was asleep, he took out a little box from under his pillow. There was a ring inside. Its design was simple yet elegant. The details, in particular, whispered Damian's devotion. He took a deep breath and gently slipped the ring through Bella's ring finger. He watched it glimmer against her skin, his gaze growing soft. He kissed her fingertip lightly, as if worried she might wake up. "I love you, Bella Valdez," he whispered. Bella's exhale deepened momentarily before evening out again. Her face remained serene—no flicker of eyelids, no change in expression.

Slowly, I opened it, and my eyes began to scan the page that was hidden within. “Dearest Logan,” the letter began. “I am writing this letter to you with the hope that you will never need to read it. But if you are, then know this: I have always loved you, and I always will. Even in death, I’ll never stop loving you. A mother’s love knows no bounds, after all.”

letter, "I love you, Aires" he started and I heard the gasps from everyone, I could feel colors flood my face, "how dare you read someone's else letter, give it back to her" Desiree tried to intervene and tried to grab it but once again, Owen eluded her and continued reading, "I have had this intense feelings for you for a while, I just can't seem to get you out of my heart as I think about you everyday, you've captivated my soul that everyday I want you more and more, if loving you is a dream, I don't wanna wake up from it because I have already made you my reality, your love makes me go speechless and I wanna your first and your last kiss, this is me pouring my feelings to you, I love you

It was hard for her to speak about her feelings, so she took to writing letters. Liza took out the box of letters from the white box and placed it beside her on the bed. Then she unfolded the rose-colored paper and started reading it. ‘To Liza, I am not sure whether you will even open this letter but I hope you do. If you are reading this I want you to know that I Love You. I know I have said it many times and that you stopped believing it a long time back. My words, my love you’s and my sorry's might mean nothing to you by now, but when I say them I mean them. I have meant every single I Love You and every single sorry.

Every love letter he'd written. All of it.

Unless you must. The contract is not a trap. It is a promise. A promise to love. A promise to protect. A promise to stay. You are not trapped. You are free. Choose love. I love you. Mother. I read the letter again. Then again. Tears streamed down my face. Lily hugged my leg. "Are you sad?" I picked her up. "No. I am loved." She touched my cheek. "Barnaby says loved is good." I kissed her hair. "Barnaby is right."

Go on. What is it? I'll say it tomorrow. Good night buttercup. I still miss you ❤ 😑 Fine. Goodnight Dylan. And I don't still miss you. 😂😂 You really insist on Dylan. Alright then. 💔 don't be harsh 😂😂 😂 Okay, I might miss you. ❤ ☺☺ My greetings to my baby. Tell Louie I still love her. And I love you too. Sure would, she'll like that.

Nothing. I move on to the next day. The page is a little burnt on the sides. I try not to imagine what must have happened to the hand that held that diary. 2 July 2010 ‘I don’t know whether my love is shallow or unfounded since we have never talked. But unrequited, untold love is the purest form of love. There is no pretence in that.’