Stories Left Untold

Dear Theo,

I don't even know if I should write this. What's the point if you're never going to read it? But I can't stop myself. I feel like if I stop writing, I'll lose the last connection I have to you.

Five months. Five months since the war ended, and still nothing. No word, no sign. People tell me to move on, to accept that you might not come back. But how can I? How can I move on when I don't even know what happened to you?

I don't know what else to say. I've written to everyone, anyone who might have news of you, but no one knows anything. They say records were lost, battles were chaotic, that it might take years to sort everything out. But what am I supposed to do in the meantime? Just wait? How can I wait when everyday feels like a lifetime?

I've tried to keep going, to find some semblance of normalcy. I help with the harvest, I tend to the children, but it all feels hollow. I try to make our cottage a home you would want to come back to. Every task is just something to fill the hours, to keep me from sinking into despair.

Sometimes I muster up the courage to go to the glade and just sit there, trying to feel close to you. But even that is starting to feel empty. The oak tree stands there, unchanged, but I've changed. I feel like a ghost of who I used to be.

Wherever you are, please find your way back to me. I don't know how much longer I can do this.

Nova