It’s midnight. You know, this is the hour when I always find myself retreating into my own world—like Cinderella after the ball. I remember what once was, but in the end, everything dissolves into memories. And tonight… I’m writing you another letter.

I’ve prepared the envelope, written your address, and even placed a stamp in the corner. But I know I’ll never send it to you. As if that would change anything…

In my mind, I imagine the scene. The mail carrier arrives just as you return from work, arms full of envelopes. Among them, there’s one—turquoise blue, from me. You leave it for last, as you always do. You pay more attention to the letters that carry importance, the ones that bring elegance.

And I, the country girl, have always wanted to stand out—only for you. Always for you.

After sorting through the serious mail, you head to the shower. The coffee maker hums, already brewing your usual. On the way to the bathroom, you call our favorite Japanese restaurant and order sushi. “Put the sauce on the side,” you remind them, as you always do.

While your order is being prepared, you step out of the shower and return to the stack of mail. Finally, you open the turquoise-blue envelope—the one that still smells like me.

“Tonight, it hit me. Can you hear me, you fool? Come to me before my heart betrays me.”

You read the letter, and I know… You’re not happy.

Solitude paints a different picture now. We both once thought waking up to silence would be easier. But now, I would give anything to hear your voice break that silence. I long to see you walk through my door again, to wake me with a kiss, to have my bed still carry your scent. I want to hear your voice telling me, like you used to, that every falling star is ours. That the best is yet to come.

“Our dreams will come true,” you used to say.

But you don’t say it anymore. And that’s why I’ll never send this letter…