I Wrote To You Everyday For A Year นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Mason The days went by in a flash. I can't believe it's the day I've been dreading already. I am seated on the edge of a bed, tapping my foot on the floor. I deleted the message I had just typed. Biting down on my lower lip, I began to type again. “Hey! Are you fine?” I deleted it again. I have sent that over 6 times and have gotten no reply from her. “Will you be here today? I miss you.” I deleted it again. It sounded too desperate.

“I want you to know that I’ve never been gone that you’re always in my heart no matter what happened between us. I sent a book every day to your home as a message that I have reasons, that I never hurt you intentionally, that I care about you, that I love you every day.” Her tears fall from her eyes, but she remains silent. “The first book I sent I know it didn’t reach you. I have a message written on it. After three days, it was returned to me. I didn’t stop though, I’m still sending a book every day. The post office called me after a month and they all returned the books to me. Your mom sent them all back to the post office.” She shakes to cry. I get closer to hug her, and she hugs me back

All unopened. "Every year on your birthday," she said. "I wrote you a letter. Told you what I was doing. Where I was living. If I got a new job. If I saw a pretty sunset. Just... little things. Things I wished I could share with you." Louis's hands were shaking as he looked through the box. I saw dates. 1990. 1995. 2000. 2010. Last year. Every single year. "Why didn't you send them?" I asked softly.

It’s like I’ve been running a marathon in my heart for five years, and now that I’ve collapsed, no one’s there to catch me. I slowly reach for my phone on the nightstand, blinking against the dim morning light. One hour left before I need to prepare for work. I sigh deeply. I feel so weak. So dull. My energy is completely drained. Last night’s heartbreak, Ella’s words echoing in my ears, her cold rejection, still pierces through me like a fresh wound. I miss her terribly. Everything about her. For five whole years, I have faithfully texted her every single morning. A “Good morning” text was part of my daily routine, as natural as breathing. But today... today, I resist the urge to type those

She opens it and looks at me. —Is it...? —I said I'd only give them to you in person. I couldn't come that month. Breaking promises isn't my style, darling —I pause briefly, waiting for her to say something, but she doesn't —It was a total of 537 days. That's two years without seeing you. In those letters, you'll find, in my own handwriting, everything I've missed about you, every flaw that draws me in. Each one also contains the memory of a song that reflects how I feel for you—songs that understand the intensity of it.

I picked up a pen from the nightstand, opened to a fresh page, and began to write. *Dear Mom and Dad,* *It's been six years since I last wrote to you. Six years of trying to forget that night, of trying to become invisible. So much has happened in the past two days that I barely know where to begin...*

And if you were in front of me, I would have never said these words. For the past seven years, I have written a letter to you. Did you receive any of them? Since I didn't receive any reply from you, I'm assuming they haven't reached you. Don't worry much, they are not that important. I just missed you too much, So I wrote those letters.

Unrelenting, unforgiving, slashing me as I spent every waking moment reliving it all. “Day 1005; I’ve started talking to myself. Out loud. At least this way someone is answering back. Me. I don’t sound crazy, do I? Well, this is what loneliness does to you. Happy third year anniversary, Serena.” “Day 33; I met my father today. Never knew I had one, mom never spoke of him. But we went over to his place today, and he lives in this really huge mansion, diary. It looks like I will too.”

I said, as she pulled out a small customized notebook. She raised a brow as she opened it, her lips parting when she realized what it was. "Letters?" "Eighteen of them," I said. "One for every year. Some are stupid. Some are cheesy. Some are just… thoughts. Things I noticed about you each year. Things I think you need to know about yourself. I started writing them two years ago." Her eyes filled, the silence heavy between us as she flipped through a few pages. "Damien…" I stepped in before she could cry. I wasn’t sure I could handle her tears tonight. "One more."