Dear you,
I don't know where you are now.
I don't know if you think about us. About what you left behind.
But I think about you—less than before, but still.
Not because I want you back.
But because I needed to understand.
You didn't just leave a woman.
You left a mother holding everything you dropped.
You left when things got hard, when love stopped feeling like magic and started needing effort.
And I carried the weight of your choices for far too long.
But here's what you'll never know:
I survived.
The silence didn't destroy me. The debt didn't end me. The sadness didn't bury me.
I rose. Slowly, painfully, but I did.
Our child is growing. He smiles again. He sleeps peacefully now.
And me?
I've learned to live without waiting.
I've learned that closure doesn't come from answers—it comes from acceptance.
I've learned that the strongest love is the one you give to yourself.
So no, I'll never send this letter.
You don't deserve to know how much I had to heal from.
But I needed to write it.
Because today… I'm letting go.
Goodbye.