6 years, 3 months.

Tris,

I met someone. We're together now. I think she's the only person in the world that doesn't hate me for having the surname 'Prior'. Her name's Martha. You would have liked her, I think. She wasn't a faction member, but one of the new members of Chicago from the fringe. I'm sure that she would have been Dauntless, though, like you.

At first I didn't tell her who I was. It's my natural cowardice that comes through again, because finally I get to meet someone I don't want to lose, but I couldn't even tell them who I really am. I'm ashamed, Tris, that's what I feel more than anything else right now, because I don't deserve the Prior name.

One day it all comes out. I lied to you. I'm sorry. My first name is Caleb – that alone for her hadn't made the connection, it's been a long time, and I was never the focus of your story – but my surname is Prior. Prior told her everything. The most surprising thing to me is that she didn't care. I explained it to her, my cowardice and my shame, the fact that in my life, I feel like I can't even get that one thing right. She smiled and told me that this was right. I really hope for once that that's true.

7 years, 0 months.

Tris,

I wanted to tell you about Tobias. He ran for the local election for what was formerly the Dauntless sector. He won – and by some margin, too. I would have voted for him, but it's not my constituency. I'm sure he'll do a great job, but I'll never see that for myself.

8 years, 8 months.

Tris,

I wanted to let you know that I'm okay with the fact that you never let me play the hero. That's never been who I am. The truth is, Tris, I'm a coward and I always have been. I wasn't designed for a faction like Dauntless.

I've let it go, Tris. I know how it sounds, but after what you've done, I felt like I needed to forgive you.

10 years, 1 month.

Tris,

She's pregnant now. Tris, you're going to be an aunt… We've been to the hospital, it's a girl.

I should tell you this. We discussed what to call her. I sat there, stared at the wall, my feet, anything.

She says it.

"Beatrice," The name rings in my ears. I haven't heard it said aloud for a very long time.

I shake my head. "It's…not what she would have wanted."

"Are you sure?" she says.

I nod my head.

"What do you think we should call her, then?" she asks me.

I don't want a name from my past, and, I don't think, neither would you.

I don't know what her name will be yet, but I'm sure that she will bear the Prior name with pride, just as you did.