Zoe pushed the door open slowly, the quiet creak echoing into the stillness of her apartment. The air inside felt heavier than usual, like the walls themselves had been holding their breath, waiting for her return.
She stepped inside, barely noticing the way the soft click of the door behind her seemed louder than it should. The quiet felt strange after everything—too still, too empty. Her body moved on autopilot as she slipped off her shoes and dropped her bag on the center table.
But her mind was still back in that coffee shop.
The words Alexandra had said echoed relentlessly:
She left because she loved you... too much.
She gave everything up for you.
Zoe sank onto the couch like her bones had suddenly become too heavy to carry. A soft, broken breath left her lips, and tears welled in her eyes before she could stop them. She cupped her face, trembling, grief and disbelief mixing like storm clouds inside her.
Stacy's love had been so much deeper than she ever realized. So deep it had cost her everything.
And she never got to say goodbye.
Suddenly, Zoe's head snapped up—the letter.
Alexandra had said there was a letter.
She wiped her tears roughly with the sleeve of her blazer and stood, heart pounding with new urgency. She rushed to the bedroom, flinging open drawers and rummaging through cabinets, pulling books off shelves, rifling through boxes—nothing.
Next, the kitchen. She tore through every drawer, every cupboard, even beneath the sink. Still nothing.
She returned to the living room, searching every inch—the TV stand, the cabinet drawers, between couch cushions, under the coffee table. But it was like chasing a ghost. The letter wasn't there.
Finally, Zoe collapsed onto the couch again, breathless and defeated. Her chest ached. Her shoulders slumped. The hope she'd clung to just moments ago drained from her like water down a cracked glass.
She let out a long, shaky sigh. Maybe the letter was never real. Maybe Alexandra had been wrong.
Then—her phone rang.
Zoe blinked, startled by the sound. She reached into her bag, fingers brushing against the screen—but as she pulled it out, her keychain slipped free and clattered to the floor, disappearing beneath the couch.
She answered absently.
"Hey, Bea," she said, voice dull and distant.
As Bea spoke on the other end, Zoe knelt down to retrieve the key. Her hand reached under the couch—searching blindly—until her fingers grazed something that wasn't metal.
Her breath caught.
There, fully tucked beneath the couch frame, lay the corner of a folded piece of paper. Dust clung to its edges. It looked forgotten. Lost.
Her heart began to race.
"Bea—I'll call you back," she said quickly, cutting the call without waiting for a reply.
With trembling hands, Zoe pulled the paper free. It was worn, a little smudged at the corners—but her name was still there.
Written in Stacy's handwriting.
Zoe stared, her vision already blurring.
Her chest rose and fell in shallow, broken breaths. Then, slowly, like it was something sacred, she opened the letter.
And the tears began to fall.
My Zoe,
I've been trying to find the right way to say this, but there is no right way, is there?
Last night was perfect. You laughed like nothing hurt, and for a moment, I believed it too. Thank you for that. Thank you for showing me that love can be warm, safe, wild, and real even when the world keeps trying to prove otherwise.
I'm leaving not because I don't love you, but because I do.
I've become the reason you're struggling. I see it now—in your hands, your eyes, your tired smile when you think I'm not looking. And I know you'd keep breaking yourself just to keep us going. I can't let that be your life.
So, I made a deal—one that gives you a real chance to start over: a job, stability, a future you can build without the weight of me holding you down. No more lies. No more hiding how much you've been carrying.
I know you'll be angry. Maybe you won't forgive me. But if even a part of this gives you the future you deserve... then it was worth it.
I hope one day you'll understand. I hope one day you'll be free.
I love you. Always.
Even from far away.
Love, Stacy
Zoe's hands trembled as she finished reading. The words blurred with tears, but she didn't want to let go. She folded the letter carefully, then pulled it close, clutching it tight against her chest like it was the only thing keeping her steady.
She just sat there, legs folded beneath her, shoulders heavy, eyes distant and unfocused. The silence in the room felt impossibly loud, pressing in on her from every side.
Her lips parted, but no sound came. Her breath caught once. Twice. Then a whisper escaped—just a name.
"Stacy..."
Her voice cracked, and she pressed a shaking hand to her mouth, trying to hold back a sob that clawed up her throat. But it broke free anyway, ragged and raw.
Zoe doubled over, clutching her chest, as if trying to hold her heart in place. Her breath came in short, uneven gasps. Her body trembled, torn between wanting to scream and wanting to disappear.
She curled inward, knees drawn tight, leaning against the couch—the place where everything had once felt safe. The faint, lingering scent still hung there, fragile and fleeting.
That smell—so small, so ordinary—was the thread pulling her apart.
A deep, broken sob tore through her again, almost too heavy for one person to carry. She rocked gently back and forth, the motion small and fragile, like she was trying to hold herself together with nothing but will.
Her fingers dug into the couch's edge, gripping it as if it could keep the world from spinning out of control. But it didn't.
Clutching the letter close, Zoe felt the full depth of Stacy's love wrap around her—a love so fierce and selfless, it spoke louder than words, carrying the promise that no matter what, she was never truly alone.