My Dearest Volk,

As I write this, our beautiful son sleeps beside me reminding me of why I ever loved you. Like a moth to a flame, like a song without a name, you consumed me. I loved you Volk. Not like they tell you love is, because I've come to believe love doesn't make everything nice; it ruins some things. It can break your heart. Or it can raise above the chaos of the world to this wonderful place. I look into our son?s stormy eyes and I can see that place.

Sometimes on Delaya I would wake up before you and I?d just watch you sleep. I?d be overwhelmed sometimes because what we had was so amazing and I didn't know why I was lucky enough to have you in my life. See I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy as you made me. I knew I want to build a family with you, forever and always, that?s what our wedding bands say and I meant it.

You use to say when we would lay in the Black rose garden that you couldn't be with someone who didn't believe in you. Well I believed in you. I did everything to hold us together when you left on missions. When they told me you were dead I felt as if I too had died. I remember thinking I'd go on forever for our unborn son only knowing I'd never see you again. The touch of you was so hard to remember. I knew that I?d know no other?s touch until I died because that was how in love with you I was. You broke my heart when you let me believe you were dead. When you came back my heart was in shattered parts but I put it behind us, for you, for me, for us, and for our son.

Volk when you love someone, and you love them with all your heart, it never disappears when you're apart. And when you love someone and you've done all you can do, you set them free. I?m caged in my love for you, I can?t always be wasting my life loving you only to be alone. You know that place between sleep and awake, the place where you can still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always love you. Because to me you were always a dream even if at times it seemed like a nightmare.


And I know in the past I've caused you pain and I'm sorry. And I'll always be sorry until the day I die. And I hate this pen I'm holding because I should be holding you. I hate this paper under my hand because it isn't you. I even hate this letter because it's not the whole truth. Because the whole truth is so much more than a letter can even say. If you want to hate me for not allowing you to be there when our son was born, go ahead. If you want to burn this letter, do it. You could burn the whole world down; you could tell me to go to hell. I'd go, if you wanted me to. And I'd send you a letter from there. But don?t punish our son for our sins because you hurt me too.

Forever and Always,

Anina