Eventually

• 6th of June •

Dearest Ellie,

I am writing this letter, don't worry. You know I can see you giving me those glances, ensuring that this letter is written. Well, it is being written. I don't even know what to write, but I'll give it a shot. For you.

Ellie, Ellie, Ellie. Thank you for falling that day. Had you not tried eavesdropping in our conversation, we wouldn't have met. And then, you became my friend, before anything else. You were a klutz, and you always were. If you weren't, would you have ever fallen for a mess like me?

I can see you writing so carefully. Your hands sprawling those words so elegantly. I wonder what you have to write to me so much. You look pale however. Is there something I should know?

Never mind, that is not what my letter ought to be. I love you. That's what I want to tell you. I love you so much. Goodness, you make me smile at the very thought of you. I love you. I love you. I love you so very much.

Do you know your eyes sparkle when you talk about Oreo? Or do you know that I adore how your front tooth is slightly crooked? Or do you know how I love how your eyes turn so narrow when you give me that toothy grin?

You ought to know all those. You're beautiful and you define so many things to me. You, Danielle, stole my heart and I don't think I would have wanted anything else.

How do you manage to care for someone you barely know? You always had the option of leaving the very moment Dr. Falcon asked you to put some sense into my head. You always had an option of turning back and running for the hills. I was disaster; a chaos and an obligation. Why didn't you?

But you know what? I'm glad you didn't. I'm glad you didn't run for the hills. I'm glad you endured and stayed with me. I'm glad you loved me like no one else. I'm glad I met you, Danielle. So fucking glad.

I'm glad you're making me do this. This entire letter thing so that we'd read it ten years later, next to each other. I'm glad because you haven't lost your hope. You didn't give up, like my sister did. You cannot give up like my sister did.

I'd write "Do not despair" but that would make me sound an awful lot like a pastor. So no, I wouldn't write that down, rather, I'm going to tell you to look to your lap and smile at our child. Ten years from now, I'm sure you will be here, right next to me, as not only my wife but the mother to my children. I'm counting on you for that, Amor.

I can vision you in our beautiful house, smiling as you feed our children and doing my tie, something I'll purposely suck at just so you can be that close to me; just so that I can look into those eyes of you and tell myself, "Damn you, my Aphrodite."

I can see you pecking my cheek and letting me go to work. I can imagine our baby daughter in your arms and our son waving me off to work. That sounds wonderful, doesn't it, Elle? I know for sure, it has to be, if it has you in it.

So, as you read this letter, ten years from when it was written, I'll ask you this again and again, even if there was nothing in the world that could us pull apart.

Marry me, Danielle Amor Calingham. The wife of my dreams. The mother to my kids. The woman to who I sold my heart. Marry me because I love you beyond everything — the sun, the moon and the truth. I love you enough to take you with me as long as your permit. I love you enough because you're it for me.

I hope you're smiling while reading this and I'll be there next to you to wipe those happy tears off.

Yours truly,
Luke Fletcher.