THE GIRL WHO LOVED AFTER LOSING

UNSENT LETTER FROM DANIEL

(Tucked away in the drafts of his notes app. Never sent. Never deleted.)

Dear Mira,

I don’t know how to begin this without sounding like a coward. Maybe I am one. Maybe that’s why I’m writing this instead of saying it. Or maybe it’s because I know I don’t deserve a response.

You were my miracle.

You were peace in a world I never understood. You were laughter in places I didn’t know joy could reach.

From the very first day at camp — do you remember? I walked across buildings just to see you smile again. I didn’t know it then, but that moment changed me.

We were just "Chicken" and "Turkey," being silly. Avoiding curse words with “oh sugar” like children building a world too pure for the pain that would follow.

You gave me everything.

You gave me dreams I didn’t know how to hold.

And still… I let go.

I told myself it was the distance. The time zones. The job. The exhaustion. But the truth?

I was scared of needing you more than I could have you.

I thought pushing you away would protect you from the worst version of me. The one that couldn’t promise he’d wait. The one that knew, deep down, he was already slipping.

But Mira, I never stopped loving you.

Every late night when your messages piled up and I didn’t respond — it wasn’t because I didn’t care.

It was because I couldn’t bear to face how much I was failing you.

I let silence do what my heart was too weak to.

You deserved better than a maybe.

You deserved a man who would wait, fight, bleed if he had to.

You deserved the forever we used to whisper about.

And now?

Now I scroll through our chats sometimes, seeing “Turkey” and remembering how you made even sadness feel like a warm place to rest.

You were home.

You still are — in all the corners of my memory I refuse to sweep clean.

If I ever find the courage, I’ll send this.

But maybe some things are meant to stay buried — like the boy who loved a girl so deeply… he broke her by trying to protect her.

Wherever you are — I hope love found you again.

I hope it feels like you deserve.

Soft. Steady. Real.

Always yours,

Daniel