CUDDLY ANGEL

Hello, my former husband! Perhaps youll never lay eyes on this letter, and perhaps it matters noteverything has already been spoken. Time, however, has given me a new lens through which to view the follies of our youth.

It has been twenty years since the court officially dissolved our marriage. I recall that day with vivid clarity: the judge urged us to think calmly, not to rush a verdict, since our daughter, Poppy, was only fourteen. Yet I was resolute. Do us both a favour and part ways at once! I demanded.

You fell silent, neither agreeing nor dissenting, simply holding your own quiet opinion. From that moment the family ceased to exist. Our lives drifted apart like parallel rivers, strangers passing without a word. Why bother? There was nothing left to share.

And then there was our daughter, bewildered, wondering why mother and father were no longer together, although there had never been a quarrel, no sharp wordsjust laughter, togetherness, a life that seemed to bathe in sunshine.

You never confessed love aloud, yet it was evident in your eyes and deeds. You always presented gifts with a peculiar meaning. I remember on a cold New Years Eve you hung a comical plush angel on the firwhere on earth did you find it? As the clock at the Palace struck midnight you declared, Let this little angel stand as a symbol of our love! That tiny guardian hung above our front door for every year thereafter, each December it was lifted back onto the tree, as if watching over our happiness. It seemed to work, at least for a while.

I fell for you without restraint, a storm of dark, fierce passion that tore through everything in its patha devilish obsession. You were married, with two daughters of your own. We crossed every line, ignored every warning, and left our families to drown in misery while we, cloaked in sin, saw only the fire of our desire.

After half a year of madness, a sliver of clarity pierced the fog. Lord, I thought, we are fundamentally differentlike night and day! What have I done?

Night after night the same dream visited me: I tried to enter my own house, but it was encircled by an impenetrable, viscous mud. The more I struggled forward, the deeper the mire pulled me, and the house receded ever farther away.

When I finally clawed my way out of that sinking quagmire, I found youmy other halfsettled into another family. I understood, without judgment, that everyone yearns for love, stability, peace. Since then, countless tides have come and gone.

Youth, a daughter, a granddaughterthose are the only threads that still bind us, Edward. Is that too little? Our destinies have simply taken different courses.

The next New Years Eve approaches. I will hang our angel on the tree once more. It has survived the years, though its wings have fallen away, a reminder of what once was, floating in the strange, endless dream of our shared past.