It was Christmas at Harrington Plantation, in Charleston. As usual, it looked like just another day. The birds chirped, the sun shone, the wind blew. No indicative of the season made itself known.

Once upon a time, the house stood in the middle of the wilderness, but now the urban sprawl has since captured the neighbouring properties. His family estate conserved the bucolic air thanks to the magical wards and the barrier, but he knew that just behind them, laid an ugly, degraded industrial area.

The damn letter sat peacefully on his desk at the main bedroom at the ancestral home. The same letter that was written to him over fifteen years ago by the one person whom he thought would be in his life forever.

He was all alone now, not that he is surprised. His parents passed away, his friends moved on, even his sister had her life taken away on a moment of prideful courageousness at an exploration somewhere deep in the jungles of South America. Only he remained, as expected, but he cannot deny that, for one foolish moment, he let himself believe she would not leave him.

Did she, though? Or have him be the one to leave her? Semantics aside, the result was always the same. He had a big house, and nothing to fill it with.

If there was one thing that plagued his mind, was that the gods did not smile at all to Beckett Harrington. First, he is born into arguably the worst family ever. He may have found peace when it came to Katrina, but it does not take back the horrid feelings that she and their parents subjected him for most of his life.

Second, he goes into college and finds out he had been a big fish on a small pond all along, being shown up by a girl who was woefully unprepared for tertiary magical education.

Third, he finds himself head over heels in love with said girl. To the point that he would gladly face criminals of the highest order, just so he can sleep soundly knowing that she was that much safer.

Finally, fourth, he manages to propose on their graduation, she accepts, and then he stupidly leaves her behind to work on a mine in the Kola Peninsula of all places! In the middle of the Russian Sami tundra! For months at a time, he would leave her alone in America, and he hoped that she would not want to find herself a less lonely existence.

God, he was an idiot.

Every Winter, when mining was impossible so far up north, he would return to South Carolina to wait up better weather in Russia. Now, however, his contract was up and he was forced to return to the US definitively.

As soon as he arrived, he marched straight to where he kept it, opened it up and read it over and over again. Like every Winter since she left him.

It was the only thing he had left of her.

Reaching for the letter from across the table, he inhaled a shaky breath before pulling out the worn-out piece of parchment folded inside. The parchment was almost tearing at the folds and covered in dry tear stains causing some of the ink to smudge. It was clear that this was not the first time he has read that letter.

Dear Beckett,

First, I just want you to know I miss you, and I will always miss you, but I have to write you this letter or I will become insane. Never think that you are at fault for what I am about to do, and do not think less of me.

I know as of lately we have been on complicated terms but I think it is best for us to just end our relationship once and for all. You have a life of your own, you built your own name, and I am so proud of you, but the fact remains that I never really fit here. I never did, and I never will.

I am sure you feel the same as well, and I do not want you to feel responsible for my well-being and happiness on top of everything else, so I am letting you go.

Sometimes, when I am feeling particularly wistful, I think back to our days at Penderghast. You know, back when we were actually alright. It is funny how we were so confident in our plans of the future together but now we barely even see each other.

I do not blame you of course, it was none of our faults, I guess the timing just wasn't right or we were not right for each-other. Or I was not good enough for you to stay behind.

God, I am horrible at letters. If it was not for you being away in Murmansk as I write this, I would have asked to meet you in person. That might have been so much easier, but if I wait, if I have to face you, then I will lose my nerve.

I guess what I am trying to say is, I love you. I still do and I do not think I will ever stop, but that is also why I am leaving you forever. We both know that all that came out of our relationship was pain and even if we did not intend for it to happen, we all did get hurt. Trust me when I say this was difficult for me to write.

I love you, Beckett Harrington. I always have, and I still do. I will never stop but I know that we would be much better off going our separate ways. I was happiest when I was with you but I was also in the most pain and I am sure it was the same for you. Maybe in some other lifetime we are happy and together but it looks like right now is not meant to be ours.

I am leaving the magical world with Atlas. We are tired of magic; we are tired of our lives here. We want to find ourselves a place in the mortal realm, and I do not think we will ever be back, so do not worry yourself with meeting me somewhere, you can go on with your life without fear. Be happy without me.

With all my love,

Donna Bloom

No matter how times he read the letter, tears always managed to blur his vision by the end of it. What made it worst was that it has been fifteen years. Fifteen years and he still could not move on.

Pathetic, he thought to himself, flinging the letter across the table. I am a pathetic human being.

He just wanted to be able to move on, do as she ask of him, but he could not, he could never. A part of him felt like it was his fault regardless of the amount of times she had said that it was not.

Beckett sighed before standing up and picking up the letter up from the ground. He carefully folded it and placed it back in the envelope.

The house was quiet. It was chronically empty. He always hated this place, but like he always thought, his life was just one suffering after another, so the one place he tried so hard to escape from was where he ended back at.

He opened another drawer on the desk, found a warded wooden box of his own personal creation and unlocked it with the magical secret. Inside, laid another letter, undisturbed for many years.

This one was written in fine Harrington ink and sealed with the Harrington family crest. It had never been sent so it was never opened.

Sitting down on his bed, too big for just one person, he opened the missive and read it.

Donna,

I am sorry for leaving you, I never intended on doing so. I did not know you felt so lonely, when you had so many friends and a family that loved you. I thought it was only me who felt like that but I assure you I do not hold that misconception any longer.

My heart will always carry that my happiest day was when you told me you were proud of me in our Freshman year, and my biggest regret is to have betrayed you by making you feel you were anything less than my own personal Sun. For that, I apologize.

I miss our collegiate times as well. Back when we were so young and naïve. I feel so selfish for wishing to be able to go back in time to experience it all over again, but even if I had a way to turn back time resting in my hands, I do not think I would be able to do it.

Not because I would not want to but because I know you have suffered so much in my hands, and now you are free. You are probably fighting to find your own place in the world.

It would not be fair for you if I erased all that effort you put into carving a space for yourself, for Atlas. I wonder what you may be doing in the mortal realm. In my heart of hearts, I imagine you opened a flower shop, somewhere in Massachusetts. That you are living in some sunny overstore with your sister, who is still dour and severe, but is happier than she ever was.

Had I been a lesser man, I would have moved earth and heaven to find you and drag you back, but I love you too much for that. I was made to be left behind, and I am glad I did not sink you with myself.

Even if this letter will never reach you, I hope you are doing well. It has been months since I have seen you. Murmansk came and went, but I miss you, my love. I really do, but it looks like I can never have my way in life. Hopefully the next, if that even exists, treats us better.

Forever yours,

Beckett Harrington