A/N: based on tumblr prompts send to me by thewayshedreams. Shoutout to my beta reader Miri on instagram!

I love this one. It was very therapeutic. Hope you guys like it!

The city always looked most beautiful at dusk. The sun disappeared from sight and the lights that illuminated the city at night came on. The sky shifted from light blue — that eponymous sky blue — to carolina blue, to cobalt, sapphire, navy, and then finally that midnight blue that almost looked black.

Nesta Archeron smiled as she took in the view.

She had come a long way in the past three years. She had become a two-time New York Times bestselling author, a part-time screenwriter, the owner of an apartment overlooking her favorite city, and financially comfortable.

People said money couldn't buy you happiness. Maybe that was true, but it could get you therapy, and that was basically the same thing.

Nesta pulled out a sheet of paper and her favorite black gel pen.

She began writing — not her current book, but a letter.

Dear Cassian,

I know it's been three years since we've last seen each other.

She brought the back of the pen to her mouth. Was that a good way to start the letter? Wasn't it awkward? Maybe it would remind him of their breakup rather than their relationship.

She pulled out another sheet of paper.

Dear Cassian,

The other day, I heard Wings by Velaris playing on the radio and I thought of you.

Fuck, maybe that would sound too much like a clingy ex? Nesta took a deep breath. Her therapist had told her that she didn't even have to send the letter if she didn't want to. The important part was just to write it all. So she would write it.

I've thought of you a lot over the past three years. When I went to the bookstore, I bought books that I thought you'd like. When I got news, I got excited to share it with you. When I ate ice cream, I thought of how we'd both eat from the same cone. Then I'd remember you were gone.

These three years have been important to me. So much has changed. I've achieved my dream of becoming a famous author. I've grown closer to my sisters and finally talked about all the issues from our childhood. I moved into a new apartment — the new one on Fae Lane. I finally learned how to do my makeup. I stopped wearing jeans. I changed my regular coffee shop from Starbucks to Elide's Drinks & Dreams. The piercings on my ears closed up, so I got them pierced again.

One thing that hasn't is how much I care about you. I haven't stopped thinking about you or loving you. I know one thing for sure — you are the man that I love. There is no one else out there for me. I will never love someone as much as I love you.

I've replayed all our moments together. All the laughter, the cuddles, the dancing in the livingroom at midnight.

I've also replayed our breakup.

For the past year and a half, I've been seeing a therapist. She's helped me realize a lot about myself. As beautiful as our relationship was, there were also problems. I relied on you emotionally for everything, when it wasn't your job to solve my problems. You would drop everything for me, but I was focused on work. You were always there for me, but you also rarely shared your own issues — you tried to fit into the box of the perfect boyfriend that I wanted instead of just being yourself. You'd come over and cook even when you were tired and just wanted to sleep. You would stay up late with me even when you had important meetings early the next morning.

I think we both idealized each other, when in reality, neither of us were perfect.

You would look at me as if I was some kind of goddess and you always believed I was destined for greatness. Of course I appreciate how you helped my confidence, especially since it was so lacking back then, but you seemed to think you were just a distraction holding me back from my destiny. You often implied that you were nothing — just an orphan who only got so far in life because of his connections. As if you were just a burden and a leech. Please don't say that about yourself. Please don't believe that. You're so much more than that. You're so…

A tear fell from Nesta's eye before she could wipe it away and landed on the paper.

You have been my inspiration in all my work. You represent everything good in this world. You have been through hell and come out stronger and kinder. You're loyal and fierce and compassionate and funny and brilliant and giving. I wish you saw that you are not an extra or a leech. You're the glue that holds your friend group together. You're the person everyone turns to because you're the one they trust the most.

That doesn't mean you have to be perfect all the time. You're allowed to be mad sometimes. You're allowed to cry and sob and say no to things. You don't need to worry that people will throw you away if you say no. You're not letting them down. You're the best person I know and if you knew how much those around you love you, you'd know that you can just be you.

I know that I was a big part of the problem. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not talking to you for three weeks. I'm sorry for not noticing that I took perfection from you for granted. I'm sorry for letting you treat yourself like dirt. I'm sorry for not telling you that you deserve to be someone's priority. You are my priority. You should have been back then, but I was too naive to realize what I was doing. I'm sorry.

Maybe you're wondering why I never reached out these past few years. If I cared so much, why didn't I try? The answer is that I believed that I didn't deserve you. You're kind and strong, while I'm cold and antisocial. My emotions are a rollercoaster and I always hurt people with my words without even meaning to. A part of me always said that I didn't deserve someone like you and that you deserve better.

My therapist has been helping me recognize my self-worth. She's helped me see that even people like me deserve love and healthy relationships, even if we have a hard time accepting it. I think that's part of the reason why I pushed you away — because I felt that we couldn't last.

I'm still not completely certain that I'm worth it. I still think you deserve someone better than me. But maybe that's ok. You give me a reason to be better, to do better. To keep working towards becoming the person I want to be, so that I feel worthy of your love.

I love you Cassian.

I want to be with you.

I don't know what you think of me. You may hate me. You may not even read this. You might even be married and have five kids.

But I wanted you to know that I'm here and that I'll always be here, loving you. I'm sorry for what I did to you. Thank you for loving all the broken parts of me back then.

I want you to be happy, Cassian. I would be ecstatic if that means you'll go out with me, but if you'd prefer not to I would understand. Be you and be happy, Cass.

Love, Nesta

"I read your letter, Nesta, and it was beautiful," her therapist Vassa said quietly. "Thank you for sharing it with me."

Nesta just nodded. "It's so much easier to write it all. When I'm talking, I always forget what I want to say and I end up saying the wrong thing and then…" she sighed.

"You have gotten better at avoiding misunderstandings, don't you think?" Vassa countered.

"I guess. I do think I've become less defensive, but it's still hard sometimes," Nesta replied.

Vassa's attention shifted back to the letter. "I think you should send it."

"What? But what if he hates it or shreds it or comes to try to talk about how horrible I was or something?" Her pitch got higher as her panic began setting in.

"Nesta," Vassa said soothingly, "It's up to you. I'm not going to make you send it. But I think you'll always wonder what if you sent this. You always talk about Cassian and sending this… even if it goes wrong, it'll give you some closure."

"I'm not going to get over him."

"I know. I won't ever suggest that your love for him will fade, but if for some reason he doesn't come to you after getting this, you start living your life for you and letting go of your guilt about your relationship. And if he goes to meet you, well," Vassa smiled, "wouldn't that be wonderful?"

"Without risk there is no reward," Nesta muttered to herself.

She took a deep breath. "I could send it but… I don't know his address. Feyre and I made a pact never to talk about Cassian and I don't think I could ask her. I don't know how else I would-"

"I'll get his address for you, if you'd like," Vassa suggested.

Nesta blinked, surprised. "I mean, if you could, I'd greatly appreciated it, but I don't see how you could."

Vassa tapped her phone as Nesta rambled, "Unless you hire someone to stalk him and then record his address, but that could get you in trouble and I don't want you to end up in jail because of me or owing some creepy stalker some money. What if they kidnap you and imprison you or something?"

"Got it!" Vassa declared and promptly texted Nesta the address.

Nesta peered through the window of her car, trying to act discreet.

She had just dropped off the letter in the mailbox in front of his house and was now hiding in her car, hoping to catch a glimpse of him as he got her letter.

She felt slightly stalker-y but it wasn't like she had done this before or was going to ever do it again. She just wanted one last look at him or a first look at her future boyfriend.

The front door opened. Nesta held her breath.

Out walked a gorgeous blonde woman, dressed in a casual but sexy red gown. The woman grabbed the newspaper and then opened the mailbox, grabbing all the mail.

Nesta's stomach dropped but she seemed to freeze, unable to stop watching.

"Cass, there's a letter for you!" the woman said, smiling. Her long blonde hair sparkled as the sunlight hit it.

"Oh, really? Gimme!" a man replied, with laughter in his voice. Cassian. It was Cassian's voice.

The woman giggled and handed someone inside the house the letter.

Nesta couldn't bear it anymore. She finally drove off. She had been wrong to send that letter. Cassian was already happy. Giving him that letter would only make them laugh at her, or worse, destroy the amazing relationship Cassian had with that supermodel-like woman.

As she drove, her numbness faded. Self-loathing and debilitating sadness were quick to take its place.

Tears blurred her vision. The roads all seemed to blend together into one. The cars besides her looked like part of the scenery. She drove with her body on auto-pilot. Her brain hardly took note of anything around her, even the car that was speeding towards the oncoming intersection. So when that car skipped the red light and slammed into her, Nesta couldn't help but think that perhaps you really can die of heartbreak.

A/N: Let me know what you think by leaving a review!

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