A letter to the post man

Back in the northern lands, Nath had grown distant from Catharine. She couldn't ignore the way he seemed colder, more withdrawn, each passing day. The once-loving gaze that filled her heart now felt void. It left her with questions that echoed relentlessly in her mind.

One evening, she mustered the courage to speak up.

"Nath," she began, her voice soft but trembling with an undertone of desperation. She moved closer, wrapping her arm around him in an attempt to bridge the growing chasm between them. "Don't you think it's about time we make a baby? We've been married for a year now."

Nath flinched at her touch. His body stiffened as though her words carried a weight he couldn't bear. With a heavy sigh, he stepped back, gently but firmly shrugging her arm off.

"Catharine, having a baby requires a lot of responsibility," he said, his voice steady but distant. "You know we're both busy right now."

Catharine's heart sank. She knew Nath wasn't being entirely truthful. There was something deeper behind his reluctance—something she couldn't quite grasp. Her mind reeled as she studied the emptiness in his eyes. It was like staring into a hollow shell of the man she once loved.

That night, as she lay in bed beside him, her mind wouldn't rest. I need to save this marriage, she thought, her heart aching. Then a name came to her mind, one she hadn't uttered in years. Reina.

The next morning, as Nath sat quietly at the dining table, Catharine broached the subject. "Honey, have you heard about Reina?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

The mention of the name made Nath's eyes flicker—just for a moment—with a light she hadn't seen in months. His true love had always been Reina. He could never deny it, nor could he lie about it. After all, he had once promised Reina he would never betray her.

"I met Reina in the southern lands," he admitted, his voice betraying a mix of reluctance and nostalgia.

Catharine's eyes lit up with a spark of hope. "Can I have her contact?" she asked eagerly, her heart fluttering with anticipation.

Nath hesitated but relented, giving her Reina's contact details. He couldn't bring himself to deceive Catharine. She was too pure, too lovely, too trusting. But his heart weighed heavily as he handed her the information.

Little did she know that Reina was the other woman in Nath's story—the very person who held his heart captive.

Back in the southern lands, I sat quietly in my room, staring at an image I had drawn. It was a sketch of the woman Damian had been searching for—a face etched into my memory as if it had been waiting to be brought to life on paper.

Diana called from the kitchen, interrupting my thoughts. "Dinner's ready, dear. Come help me set the table."

I placed the drawing aside and went to assist her. Diana wasn't my biological mother, but there was something about her that compelled me to care for her. Her heart was pure, and her presence radiated warmth. She had been a source of quiet strength in my life, and I often found myself drawn to her.

As we worked side by side, a question burned in my mind. Finally, I decided to ask. "Miss Diana," I began, my voice cautious but filled with curiosity. "Can you tell me about my father and you?"

Diana paused, her hands stilling as she turned to face me. Her eyes, filled with a mix of sorrow and tenderness, met mine. She let out a long sigh, as though she had been carrying the weight of the story for years.

"I think we should move this conversation to my bedroom after dinner, dear," she said with a gentle smile.

Later that evening, after we'd cleared the table, Diana led me to her room. It was modest yet filled with an air of serenity. She gestured for me to sit on the edge of the bed, while she settled into a chair by the window. For a moment, she stared out into the night, gathering her thoughts.

"Your father was an extraordinary man," she began, her voice soft but filled with emotion. "He had a way of making everyone around him feel seen, understood. But that didn't mean his life was easy."

I leaned forward, hanging on her every word.

"Our love was… complicated," she continued, a faint smile playing on her lips. "We met in a time of great turmoil, and though our hearts belonged to one another, there were forces beyond our control that kept us apart."

Diana's voice grew quieter, almost as if she was speaking to herself. "But through it all, I never doubted his love for me. And even now, I hold onto those memories as if they were precious jewels."

Her words struck a chord deep within me. I could see the reflection of my own love for Nath in her story—an enduring connection that refused to fade, no matter the obstacles.

"Do you ever regret it?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Diana turned to me, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "No, my dear," she said firmly. "Love, even when it's painful, is never something to regret."

Her words lingered in the air, wrapping around me like a comforting embrace. As I sat there, I felt an unspoken bond forming between us—a shared understanding of love's complexities and the strength it demanded.

And in that moment, I knew that the answers I sought weren't just in her story but also in my own heart.