DARK CHEMISTRY
Daniel sat in his old room—unchanged, dust collecting on the windowsill, silence swallowing every corner.
He stared outside for hours, unmoving… the world passing, the sky shifting, but his eyes empty.
Then he did something no one expected.
He picked up his phone…
…and blocked Lizzie from every social media account.
Her number—deleted.
Her contact—gone.
A complete erasure, as if wiping himself out of her world might somehow protect her.
Then he did the unthinkable.
He took out a sheet of paper and wrote a long note—every word soaked with regret, apology, love he knew he no longer deserved. He folded it carefully and asked a guard from his old prison block—one of the few who pitied him—to send it to Lizzie.
And that night…
Daniel disappeared from his home.
Not found in his room.
Not answering calls.
The news only said:
"Daniel C., 24, was found unresponsive. Authorities have confirmed no foul play."
In your story's universe, the world learned he was gone.
And Lizzie… received the letter the next morning.
THE NEXT MORNING
Lizzie had barely slept. The baby was fussing, her father pacing the house, everyone tense from the scene outside the prison.
When the doorbell rang, she didn't expect anything… maybe a courier, maybe a teacher.
Instead, a guard stood there—someone she remembered faintly from the prison corridors.
He held out a sealed envelope.
"From Daniel," he said softly.
Her breath stopped.
Lizzie's hands shook as she tore the envelope open. The familiar handwriting made her chest tighten painfully.
She sat on the floor, clutching the baby close, and began to read.
DANIEL'S LETTER
"Lizzie,
My Love,
I know when you're reading this, I won't be around anymore.
Please don't throw the letter away. It's the last thing I'll ever ask from you.
I've spent every night in prison replaying your smile.
Your shy glances.
The way your hands would tremble around me but still reach for my sleeve.
I never deserved any of it.
I ruined your youth.
I stained your innocence.
I destroyed your peace.
And when you needed me the most — during our child's arrival — I wasn't even allowed to stand beside you. That broke something in me that I can't explain.
The world sees me as a mistake.
But losing you?
That made me believe they're right.
Your father's slap didn't hurt half as much as the truth behind it.
He was right. I am the danger he kept you away from.
I blocked you everywhere so you will never search for me, never wait for replies that won't come, never try to fix a man who was broken long before you met him.
I'm giving you what I failed to give you in life — freedom.
Raise our baby with light, not with the shadow of a man like me hanging over both of you.
Tell our child I loved them, even though I never got to hold them.
Tell them their father wasn't good… but he tried.
And Lizzie…
Please live.
Live a life that doesn't have my fingerprints on it.
Because if I stay on this earth, I'll only pull you down again.
This is my last love letter to you.
Goodbye, my moonlight.
Goodbye, my girl.
Goodbye forever."
— Daniel
REACTION
Lizzie didn't sob at first.
She froze.
Her eyes scanned the letter again and again, as if reading it enough times would bring him back.
Then it hit her.
Her chest cracked open, a sound escaping her throat—raw, choked, heart‑splitting.
She hugged the baby tighter, curling over the letter as tears soaked the paper.
She shook her head violently, whispering:
"No… no, you promised… you said you'd stay… Daniel, you said you'd stay—"
She pressed the letter to her heart, rocking back and forth.
The baby cried with her.
The house echoed with loss.
And for the first time in months…
Lizzie felt truly, terrifyingly alone.