She picked the letter up with uncertainty. She was scared of what might happen. It had been lying on her nightstand for days. She was afraid of it like it was some infectious disease ready to become an epidemic at any moment. But she was ready, now. Ready to face anything.

It read:

Why thank you,

For the kiss,

The kiss that wasn't meant to be.

For the feelings you had,

For the words you spoke,

And the thoughts you had of me.

I'm sorry, my love.

So sorry for pain.

Sorry for the things that I did.

I never deserved your love,

Never deserved your devotion.

But now my pain I must rid.

You won't be able to find me.

I leave alone and in silence,

But please remember my name.

I'll be fine.

Don't worry about me.

But know that I won't be the same.

One day I might come out

Out of hiding and out of the dark,

And visit you.

But maybe you'll find me.

I hope you will come.

But I'll always love you, whatever you do.

Sorry, Isabella. But I have to leave.

I love you…

~Phineas Edward Flynn

She felt one, single, lonely teardrop fall into her hands.