Eight thousandth, one hundred and eighty eight day

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My dearest Cecilia,

This is my farewell letter. 23 years of love. You left too early. You were young, and now you have left me alone. I promise that I will take care of darling Andrea and give the child enough love to compensate for two parents, instead of one.

I will miss you, my love. Every time I look at those stories you wrote, those which made you blossom, and our love blossom as well; those which killed you...

Because, unlike what I had assumed, the corset stifled the air out of you, and you hanged yourself in despair. I hope that, one day, I might realize what led you to doing that, as I thought we were happy together. I will search through every story you wrote and every letter, as well, looking for what I'd done wrong, and what the world had done to you.

Nonetheless, this is my final letter to you.

Farewell.

Yours truly and lovingly,

Luke Demarco,
Count of Zenith.



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