You never told me what happened. I had to piece it together. That box you keep hidden in the attic? I went through it one day when you were away, even though you've always told me not to. Those letters you have in there, who are they addressed to? All the names are scratched out, like it hurts to read them. Even your own name, as if you can't bear to look at the way she used to write it.
There's a ring in there too. It's in a little black box with a heart on the top. Is that why you've never proposed to me? We've been together for six years and you still can't even say 'I love you.' You falter every time and turn it into something else. Every time I kiss you I know that for a split second, you think it's her, because your grip tightens and you kiss me hard, like it's the last time you'll ever be able to, and then you relax when you remember it's just me. It happens when I hug you too. Or when we're in bed and I put my hand in yours.
Last week you had a nightmare, and you said a name in your sleep. Charlotte. Was that her? You began crying after you said her name. I tried to comfort you, but even in your sleep you pushed me away. You curled up and cried, but you never woke up. When you finally opened your eyes, it was like it never happened. You smiled and kissed me good morning. But your eyes, they were broken. You were broken. And it shattered me.
I know you're curious. If it were me I would be too. And I know you looked in that box I hid in the attic. Did you wonder about why I crossed out all those names? I couldn't bear to see her name or mine in her handwriting, but I couldn't bear to tear or throw away her letters. I keep the really secret ones tucked away under a loose floor board in the kitchen. I knew you would snoop so I hid everything that would make our relationship more difficult.
I know you saw the ring. Did you figure out that's why I can't say 'I love you?' I feel awful about never being able to, Emily, I really do. We've been together so long. And I can't stop myself from thinking it's her when you kiss me or hug me or take my hand. I know you notice. I can tell by the way your smile drops and then comes back, although it always seems a little forced.
And last week I had a nightmare. I remembered everything from that night. I couldn't control it. I could never control it. But she was there and I hurt her. I did the worst possible thing I could to her. And the last time I saw her, she told me it was okay. That she didn't blame me. But she grabbed my hand at the last second when the pain was too much to bear. Her body was broken. I had broken it. And it shattered me.
I know you think about me. You kept my old letters to you in a box in the attic. Some you keep in your kitchen. And I know she's snooped in your box, but she's never found the loose floorboard. When she saw how you crossed out my name, did she realize why? Did she realize why you crossed out your own? When I get lonely up here and I yearn for you, I still write our names together as if we're back at school again and we're carving out names into that big tree in the Forbidden Forest.
But when she found the ring I was surprised. You never proposed to me. Were you going to? I wish I could tell you I would've said yes. And when she touches you I know I cross your mind. I don't want to though. She loves you and she knows you'll never love her because in the back of your mind you'll always wish it was me.
Last week when you had that nightmare she tried to help you but you stayed unconscious. Dead to the world. And I know you were thinking about that night. But you shouldn't. As I took my last minutes on this earth I told you that it was okay, that I didn't blame you, Remus. And that was true. But I knew that you might never get over. That you might never be at peace. And it shattered me.