Dear Samuel,  

Gazing up at the stars, I cannot help but think about my past. If I were given the chance to start all over again, I would still make the same decisions I made, I would still fall in love; I would still experience the pain, the heartache. I've never regretted falling in love, or experiencing heartaches nor will I regret ever. Because, deep down in my heart, I believe that I’ve done nothing wrong. In our lives, there are some things that we can’t change; we shouldn’t force them to alter either. I’ve never forced anything in my life.   

 The night is strangely beautiful tonight; devoid of the moon; filled with glimmering stars. Yet, the night is dark for someone seeking a path in the darkness, the faint sparkles of the stars are not enough to guide them in the darkness. Anyway, the darkness will soon give away to the radiant morning sun, and a new day will begin. 

Samuel, every story has already ended in my life. My life may seem uneventful now but it’s calm and peaceful. The children of the orphanage had long since drifted into sweet dreams. My childhood memories have faded. But seeing them, I assume mine was also carefree, colorful just like them devoid of any responsibilities and worries. Maybe, I was a mischievous child always annoying my mother.  

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

It’s been a long time since I visited my country. I feel a bit nostalgic now, a strange feeling that I’ve never felt before. I miss the rain. I wish I could get drenched in the rain as I used to do during my teens. Maybe it's time to go back to where I belong. But can I leave the orphanage, it’s also my home now. I am also an orphan like them having nobody in my life. Anyway, what’s the use of going back to the past chapters that I left long ago? I’m more dependent on them than they are dependent on me.  

  At times, I feel powerless for being unable to provide them with the love of both father and mother. Yet I believe that they are happy. They are content with the little home they have, playing in the afternoon every day and doing mischievous antics. They make me believe that, despite the darkness and the storms, life is beautiful and unique. 

Samuel, I believe this is the final letter to you. Over the years, I've penned numerous letters to you. You are the only one who has seen this vulnerable side of me. Thanks for all the times when I needed a listener the most. Thanks for knowing that I also shed tears. I think I can cry freely now in front of the mischievous children; they don’t mind a middle-aged woman weeping alongside them. Farewell 

Yours  

Sophia