Ana sat by the window, curled up with a worn notebook Christian had gifted her.
Inside, she wasn't writing sketches.
She was writing to someone who would never read it… but needed it the most.
✉️ The Letter
Dear Me,
I know you don't recognize who I am right now.
You're probably still trying to keep your voice small enough to be lovable.
Still trying to apologize for your softness.
Still thinking silence makes you strong.
Still hoping someone will see you if you stay quiet long enough.
But I'm writing to tell you this:
You don't have to be quiet to be kept.
You don't have to disappear to be loved.
He will come.
Not the first one.
Not the loudest one.
Not the one who kisses you like a war.
But the one who listens.
The one who watches you without making you feel on display.
The one who stays—even when he doesn't understand.
And more importantly?
You'll become someone who doesn't need him to stay—
But wants him to.
There's a difference.
And you'll feel it in your bones the day you stop begging for breadcrumbs and start sitting at your own damn table.
He won't save you.
He'll meet you.
And when he apologizes without being asked?
When he notices the weight you didn't name?
When he holds your hand without asking what's wrong?
You'll remember me.
And you'll whisper:
"We made it."
Love,
The woman you're still becoming.
But she's coming.
And she's not afraid anymore.
Ana closed the notebook gently.
She didn't cry.
She just smiled.
Because that girl?
She finally wasn't stuck in survival anymore.
She was free.
To be continued…