Ghost Boyfriend: Ebernote (complete)

Female Main Character x Male Character (both cis)

Ebernote was dead, to begin with. There was no doubt whatsoever about that. The register was signed by all according and his lawyer had requested my presence. I did not need to see the body, nor have any shred of proof aside from that. The lawyer was as secretive and silent as a mouse. So if you saw him, you knew there was a bigger problem.

For decades Ebernote and I had been business partners. It started with my husband, who had been the original Coulthurst on the sign of ‘Coulthurst & Thursby’. Then my husband died young, and I became the Coulthurst on the sign. Ebernote had tried to buy me out, but I was no fool. I knew what the business was worth, and I would not let him take one cent of my husband’s shares.

The North Pole was a bitter place, although it shared the same glittering veneer as its southern neighbor, Pirlipat. It was more like its sister kingdom of Miror; pretty to look at, but with lots of crawling things below that surface. I suppose Ebernote and I were among those crawling things. But the North Pole was a cold place, and through our business, we kept it warm.

The coal mines were a happy accident, property that Ebernote and my husband bought in their youth. I was merely seeing my husband at the time - being courted, I suppose, would be the correct way to put it. But my true fondness for Hugh. It wasn't about money then.

During Ebernote’s funeral, I was struck with my first memory of him. I was young, just finished school, and seeing Hugh for the first time in months. I was excited to step off the train and find him waiting for me. Instead there was a man there who looked quite strange compared to the rest of the people on the platform. Ebernote was tall, standing head and shoulders above everyone else; thin and willowy, with limbs that looked unencumbered by gravity. His movements flowed easily, like water or clouds. He seemed to drift above the world, afraid it would sully his shoes. “You must be Sybyll,” he said with a voice as deep and endless as his coal mine. “Pleasure to meet you. I am your husband’s business partner.”

I looked around with a smile, like this was some sort of joke. “Mr. Thursby?” I said, still expecting Hugh to pop out from somewhere. “I’ve been told a great deal about you.” I offered him my hand, still surprised Hugh had not mentioned Ebernote’s appearance to me before.

Ebernote kissed the side of my hand rather than my knuckles, which was odd, but strangely alluring. His dark eyes focused on me, and his thin brows were pinched in such a way he looked angry. But I would soon realize that was just how he always looked. “Hugh got caught up at work and asked me to tend to you. He wanted me to take you home so you could rest.”

I smiled graciously, although I felt quite odd in his presence. “If he is still at the office, you can take me there. Perhaps I can help with whatever has him bogged down.”

“He is at the mines, sweet Sybyll,” Ebernote replied. “Not a place for a fine lady such as yourself. If you are not tired, though, perhaps I could take you to get something to eat.”

I should have told him to take me home, but instead I went with him to dinner. I also went to bed with him that evening. I am not sure what came over me, perhaps an affliction of girlish rebellion. Maybe I was angry that Hugh chose the mines over me. Whatever it was, Ebernote seduced me, and I cannot deny the immense pleasure I took in his bed.

I married Hugh, and while he was alive, Ebernote and I carried out our affair when his back was turned. Hugh was sweet and doting, but he ignored most things in our marriage. To Hugh, I was a pretty trapping for his home, but to Ebernote, I was alive and vital. Much like the coal mine, Ebernote saw something more in me than Hugh did.

Hugh’s death was recorded as an accident, but rumors still spread. Hugh was worth more to me dead than alive, and I was not a well-liked woman within our circle. They called me cold and aloof, and because I had an education in Miror, they thought I felt I was above them. Rumors that I had him killed spread extremely quickly. I had to make myself scarce for a while, as my son was at an age where such things could affect him.

That was when Ebernote tried to buy me out of my business. I returned home, and if they thought I was cold before, they couldn’t see the frost that was coming. If they thought I felt above them all, they would know it now. I was Sybyll Coulthurst, and I was going to make them all see who and what I was.

My affair with Ebernote ended, although the effects of it still rippled through our contentious business affairs. We grew old together, and I thought we hated one another. He always held it over my head that my son, Augustine, looked nothing like his father. Augustine was tall and thin, elegant and beautiful. Why did he have to make my sins so obvious? But I was his mother and his father for most of his life. He received the finest education money could buy, and he grew up to be a fine man. Now he lives in Pirlipat with his wife and children, and I still receive letters from him from time to time. During Christmas, we exchange beautiful cards. But because of Ebernote’s death, I cannot remember if I have sent him mine.

Ebernote has arranged his funeral, like the true malicious force that he was, on Christmas Eve. Aside from the priest, I am the only one in attendance. I wear red, because I know he would hate it. He never liked the color, hated how it was infused into every aspect of the North Pole. I meet his lawyer afterwards, and the poor man looks relieved. Ebernote’s hooks have been removed from him, and he can breathe now. I am still waiting to exhale, as the final hook to be removed from me is this lawyer.

“As you may know, Mrs. Coulthurst, Ebernote had no surviving relatives, no next of kin, no...”

“I am aware.” I cut him off, fearing my son’s name might come out of his mouth. “Ebernote was a loner until the bitter end. I just feel sorry for the maid who had to find him.” I stiffen my neck. “So tell me, sir, what has the old fool done? What are his machinations for me?”

The lawyer looks down and takes out a heavy envelope sealed with black wax. He breaks the wax and pulls out the papers inside, which he reads before looking up at me. “He has left you everything.”

The air seizes inside my lungs, and my ribs threaten to crack. “He did what?”

“He’s left you the entirety of his estate, his share of the business, his assets, and...”

I yank the paper from his hand and look at it incredulously. “He never gives anyone anything! What’s the catch?” I spit.

The lawyer takes up the second sheet and nods. I see his eyes darting and lips moving rapidly as he reads. “This is strange.”

I slap my palm down on the desk. “Well?”

He clears his throat and nods. “His one stipulation is that you spend a night in his home.”

I furrow my brow. “What?”

“Effective immediately.”

I continue to stare down this poor man like he is insane. “That is the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever heard! What was he thinking? I know he was of sound mind up until his death. But this is...” I begin to laugh, tittering then guffawing, throwing my head back. “Fine! I’ll play your silly game, Ebernote. One last one until you fade from my memory.”

I have been to Ebernote’s home many times, and I’m prepared for it. The house is like a vault, sequestered, sparse and cold. I’m used to that, but this time, as I step inside an extra heaviness settles on me. The lawyer locks the door behind me. Once that lock clicks, I feel something shift.  I take a deep breath, letting a plume of steam issue from my lips.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You want me to be afraid, don’t you?” I wander to the parlor. There is no wood by the fireplace, as expected, so I take the side table by his only chair and break it on the floor. I toss the legs inside and set them ablaze. “For once, there will be some warmth in this place, Ebernote!” I say out loud. I sit down in his chair and sigh heavily as the fire grows. “I’ll sell this place, and I’ll buy a home in Pirlipat so I can see my son.”

I hear footsteps upstairs, and I sit upright in the chair. I listen closely. They’re coming from the bedroom. Probably robbers alerted by the maid, or maybe even the maid herself come to make off with what she can. I take the sword from the mantle and make my way up the stairs.

“Probably planned this too, old man,” I continue to curse under my breath. “You knew someone would come and try to loot you. That’s why you hired that woman, too. Lock me in with thieves and let me die in your home.”

I open his bedroom door and find the room empty. I look around, breathing softly so I can hear. I know the footsteps came from in here. I look into his wardrobe, a sea of black. I look in the closet, which contains absolutely nothing except a shoe box on the shelf. I kneel and look under the bed to find nothing.

As I rise, I see the bed is rumpled. He had been found dead on the floor beside it, so the way the covers sat show he had been lying peacefully until something disturbed him enough to rise. The heaviness sinks into my skin and weighs on my bones. I shared this bed with him many times. My son was conceived in this bed. I turn away from it, grasping at my chest with one hand while the other grips the hilt of the sword. I take deep breaths as my eyes begin to burn with tears. I see smoke begin to rise from the fireplace, but I blame it on the fire downstairs.

I move across the room to leave, but I find myself unable. I lay down the sword on the bed and begin to search the room. The drawers on his wardrobe don’t hold much, just handkerchiefs and scarves, old gloves and tattered shirts. I take the shoebox from his empty closet, expecting to find nothing except receipts or old account books. It doesn’t feel heavy, though. In fact, it feels almost empty. Removing the lid, I see something white and silky inside. I take out a nightgown that once belonged to me. There is also an unsent letter, addressed to the boarding house I lived in after Hugh died, with my name scribbled across the front.

I hold up the nightgown. It was a gift from Ebernote not long after we had met. He had given it to me in secret, and asked me to wear it when I was with him. I left it behind one night just before Hugh died. I had never thought about it again, but apparently Ebernote did. I lay it flat across the bed, looking down on it like Ebernote did to me so many times. Then I shake the memories from my mind.

I return to the letter, which I set on the table before the big mirror. The only letter I had ever received from Ebernote was the one offering to buy Hugh’s portion of the business. Perhaps this is his counteroffer, but I returned to take control before he could send it. Then why keep it? Why not just throw it away?

I begin to break the wax seal, and I hear footsteps again. Turning around, I see nothing but smoke creeping along the floor from the fireplace. It moves more like fog, but pitch black. I feel nervous, but that is just part of the game. Isn’t it? I start to open the letter again, and the sound of footsteps dragging is right behind me. I look up into the mirror, but I see nothing. I crack the seal, and suddenly there are hands around my throat, pulling me backwards and away from the mirror. I see nothing in the reflection but my bulging eyes and gaping mouth. I can hear chains scraping across the floor.

I fight back, dropping to the ground as the smoke resolves into the shape of chains. They latch around me, but I pull away from them, scrambling to the door. I stand up, brace myself on the knob, and look around the room, black and gray with so much smoke. Standing in the center of it is a long, dark figure bristling with chains. He lumbers forward, encumbered by their weight. His hand stretches out so I can see the ring on his finger.

“No,” I whisper. My heart is pounding, and I fear that my bones and flesh will not contain it much longer. My eyes widen, and though they are blurred and watery from the struggle, I can see it all too clearly. “This is no possible way. This can’t be!”

“Sweet Sybyll,” a coal mine of a voice croaks.

“No!” I bellow into the smoke. “You’re dead! I watched the casket of Ebernote Thursby buried today! His body and what remains of him is in the ground with that ring! Whoever you are and whatever your plans are, I know this to be true! Ebernote Thursby is dead, dammit! And whatever you might be - a rotted gut, a headache - there is no possible way Ebernote Thursby walks this earth!” I spit on the ground.

The hand vanishes, but the ring falls to the floor, clattering and rolling until it touches the side of my foot. My chest is shuddering and my breaths come out warbling. I kick the ring and let it roll under the bed. “Ebernote Thursby is dead,” I say again as sternly as possible. “Not a speck of him remains on this mortal plane.”

I turn to leave, but as I do something hits the back of my head. I scoff in pain and see the ring fall at my feet. Turning around, I see a figure sitting on the bed, holding the letter. Heavy chains cover his body like a coat, weighing down limbs that were once as graceful as water.

“Half of that is correct.” Ebernote says. “I am dead.” He lifts his head and looks at me. His eyes are hollow, his features even more skeletal than before “But there is a speck of me here, Sybyll. The sooner you come to accept that, the quicker this night will be over.”

My jaw is stiff, clenched tight as I take in the visage before me. “Ebernote,” I choke out. “I was not expecting you.”

Ebernote smiles and begins to laugh. “I doubt you would be, considering that hysterical little monologue you just performed.” He looks to the letter, turning it in his hand. The chains covering him shift, showing me just how many are hanging from him. He looks hunched and small, a way he never did before. He was always stiff, high and mighty. I never saw him droop or lower himself. Even when his knees were weakening, he never allowed anyone to see him struggle.

“Don’t call me hysterical,” I hiss.

Ebernote rises from the bed, holding the envelope before him. “You’re here with me for the night, Sybyll. The first we’ve spent together in decades.”

“I highly doubt it will be like before,” I scoff.

“No. But you remember those nights, and no doubt you’ve already been thinking about them.” He presses the letter to his chest.

I scowl at him, folding my arms across my chest. “Perhaps this is my guilt coming into play. I am asleep downstairs in the chair, and my guilt is manifesting as a dream.”

Ebernote chuckles. “You believe this to be a dream state, fine. I can still speak to you and warn you of what is coming.”

I glare at him. “What? That I will wake from this nightmare and find your lawyer has set me and this house ablaze?”

He stretches out his arms wide, and the chains shower from his limbs. “No, sweet Sybyll. I have come to warn you about your death, which will be soon if you do not listen to me.”

Perhaps this is something to take heed of. After all, they say dreams can be a window into the unknown and keys to open up the future. If I am not dreaming, then this could be a new start for me. But I will not fall for such baseless notions. Dreams rarely offer up anything aside from hurdles.

“Fine! I’ll die soon!” I turn on my heel and leave the bedroom, but I set foot into a snowbank and topple onto it, landing in a cold drift. I look around and see a world swept up in white. Bright lights blanket the trees and streetlights, and the pine trees are decorated and shining.

I look back to see the door of the bedroom still there, and Ebernote watching me through it. “Now I am assured that I am dreaming!” I stand up and dust myself off. “I will enjoy myself now with that knowledge.”

Ebernote tilts his head to the side. “What makes you so assured?”

“It was raining when I came in today! There is no snow on the streets or in the park.” I kick snow and then grin up at him. “So this is no reality!”

Ebernote steps into the snow, his chains dragging behind him. “Not the current reality,” he tells me. “But one you are familiar with. Come.” He walks ahead of me, and the chains seem endless as they pay out behind him.

“Why should I follow you?” I scoff.

He looks back over his shoulder. “If it is a dream, why does it matter?”

I roll my eyes and follow him, trudging through snow until we arrive at my home. The door opens and Hugh comes running out, looking panicked and white. He leaves the door wide open, and Ebernote and I walk right in. Right away, I can hear myself screaming.

“I recognize this,” I murmur as I look around. I notice a smashed glass bauble on the floor, with drops of blood around it. “This was the day I went into labor with Augustine.”

Ebernote trudges towards the kitchen at the back of the house, where I have collapsed onto the floor with some of the staff at my side. I’m bleeding from a cut on my hand, but I won’t allow anyone to touch it. “Poor thing was almost born on Christmas. But he had to be so difficult, and he was born the next day,” I sigh as I watch. “My god, what a scene I made.”

Ebernote turns sideways in the door and points behind me. “That is not what you are to see, sweet Sybyll.”

I scowl, but follow his hand to see Hugh rushing back through the door, chased by Ebernote - the old Ebernote. He is yelling at Hugh, raising a fuss, but his voice quiets as he hears me screaming.

“Sybyll has gone into labor! I can’t do anything about work now!” Hugh was never good under pressure. That’s what he had Ebernote for.

Ebernote clutches Hugh’s shoulders, looking in the direction of my screaming. “How funny that he should be born on a day I hate.”

“Sir?” Hugh sputters.

He turns and looks at Hugh disdainfully. “Go back to the office! You’re better there than here. No husband needs to see this.” He pushes Hugh towards the door. “Get out! There’s important work to be done, you fool!”

I grumble curses under my breath. “So that’s where he was all day.”

Ebernote watches as he runs away, then stands and listens. Daylight fades to darkness, and he remains there. Midnight chimes, and for a moment there is silence. Not until Augustine takes his first breath in this world does he move or react. “Mrs. Coulthurst, it’s a boy!”

Ebernote lowers his head, and I almost take it as a sign of emotion. But when he lifts his eyes they show no sign of joy or anguish, just stone. He taps his hat back onto his head and ventures out into the dark with nary a second thought.

“You gave birth to my son,” Ebernote whispers behind me as the foyer turns into a snowy bank, surrounded by dead trees and a rubbish bin fire.

I stare him down, frigid as the air around me. “I gave birth to my son,” I say quietly. “There is no you in him.”

Ebernote chuckles. “You can’t deny the truth, Sybyll. Augustine is my son, and a single glance will tell you that. Is that why you kept him at arm’s length for so long? Away at school. Away in Pirlipat. You repel him so you don’t have to admit what you’ve known since his conception!” He shakes his arm, rattling his chains.

I clap my hands. “Bravo! Very scary.”

Ebernote lunges for me. “I never admitted it. And it became a weight on me, a chain.” He tilts his head and inches closer. “It is heavier on you.”

“You planted your seed in a married woman and then did nothing,” I hiss back at him. “You are nothing but a burden.”

Ebernote laughs, taking a step back from me. “I know you love him. I do too. But you cannot bear to look at him, let alone be around him when you need him most. Until you admit it, you will never let go of your guilt, and you will not hold your son again.”

The flame in the rubbish bin pops and crackles. Inside I see a bedsheet burning to ash. “Because I am going to die, right?” I look back into Ebernote’s hollow eyes. “Soon, right? So I should just rush to him? Make amends?”

The world shifts to a dark room - the office, in fact. It’s cold inside, almost colder than the winter outside it. Rain is pouring down the window and pelting the street outside. Ebernote walks around to my desk, picking a note off the top. “You exchange cards at Christmas, don’t you?” He shows the front of the card in his hand, bright red with golden foil in the shape of a tree. “Is this his or yours?”

“You died,” I murmur as I approach him and take the card. “I forgot to send it.” I open the card to see my signature, with a short note to my son and grandchildren underneath. “Although I hoped I had.”

“You’ve never let things hinder you before, Sybyll,” he whispers into my ear. “You’ve always been the type to work through the storm. Why would my death stop you?”

I look out the window of my office to see a carriage going down the street. Then I look down, seeing my quill and ink bottle spilled onto the floor. I had walked through it, leaving a trail which stops outside Ebernote’s office.

“What did you do when you received word I had passed?”

My lashes flutter, and my shoulders feel heavy. “I was...” My throat becomes tight, and I have to clutch my hand about my mouth. “I was so angry!” I say through gnashing teeth.

Ebernote sighs, and his chains rattle as he walks into his office. He stands like he used to, looking at his desk before turning to look out the window. He tries to fold his hands behind his back, but the chains won’t allow it. “You weren’t joyous?” he asks. “Not even a little cold?”

I unclench my jaw and allow myself a breath. “You had so much work to do that day,” I mutter.

Ebernote smiles. “That’s right. I had the Mulligen account to handle.” He faces me, and his eyes seem less hollow. The office shifts just as I hear a knock on the door. We’re standing in the bedroom again, and Ebernote is asleep in his bed. I stand at the foot, watching him sleep, but already he looks like a corpse.

The ghost stands beside me, looking over himself. “I still looked handsome in my old age, didn’t I?”

“Hatred can preserve a body like salt,” I grumble. “That’s what my father used to tell me.”

The Ebernote in bed wakes up with a horrified gasp. His eyes shoot open and his mouth hangs wide. I step away in fright. He struggles and gasps, clutching himself. He tries to stand up, but collapses onto the floor. Instinct kicks in and I rush to his side. “You cannot save him now,” the ghost tells me. “This has already transpired.”

Ebernote is trying to drag himself to the closet. He manages to reach the door, then collapses with his hand outstretched.

“I didn't want to see this!” I turn away, putting my face in my hands.

Ebernote kneels beside his body, which is suddenly bound in chains. They pull at him, dragging him down through the floorboards and leaving only a skeletal wreck behind.

“I told myself I had no regrets in life, but it was the greatest of all my lies.” Ebernote stands and opens the closet door, exposing the shoe box on the shelf. “My greatest regret, Sybyll, is that I never got to love you.”

I turn and look at him, my eyes filled with tears, red and swelling. I keep my hand over my mouth as he pulls out the nightgown and then the letter.

“I loved you all my life, but I couldn’t admit it, because that would mean defeat and the end of everything I had believed. It would mean there was something inside me just as weak as all other men.” He places the letter in my hand. “I could have had a family. I could have had something attached to me besides these chains. I may have had a chance to be a good man rather than just a man.” He sighs heavily. “I could have had more than one soul at my graveside yesterday.”

“Yesterday,” I whimper.

Ebernote touches my cheek and wipes away the tears. “Admit the truth. Love your son. Love who he is, despite your sins. Admit and let go. You don’t have much time, sweet Sybyll. These chains are not worth holding onto.”

I swallow despite the hardness in my throat, then collapse to my knees with sobs. “Why did you leave me?” I yell at him. “You miserable old fool! You knew exactly what you were doing when you died!”

Ebernote stands there, struggling against his chains which are pulling him.

“When Hugh died!” I scream angrily at him. All this time we’ve spent so far apart and yet so close. “You offered me money! I wanted you!” I tear at the front of my dress. Everything feels so tight that I can’t breathe. “I thought you would come to me then! I thought you’d love me and our baby! But you just threw money at me like I was a problem! I hated you! I wanted to make your life a living hell! I wanted to watch you suffer! To die! To choke on your stupid fucking money!”

He nods gently. “I know. Read the letter, Sybyll.”

I start to rip it in half, but find I do not have the strength to do it. My hands shake, and at the first sign of tearing I can no longer bear it. I fall to the ground, weeping, sobbing horribly. My eyes hurt, my sides ache, and my lungs are on fire.

“Mama!”

The voice is that of a man, but still the sweetest sound to my ears. I lift myself up slightly to see him sweep into the room. “Augustine?” I cry.

“Mama! Are you okay?” Augustine is by my side that instant. He picks me up off the floor, and I cling to him for fear he might vanish. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! You weren’t at home, you weren’t in your office...”

I hug him tightly. “Oh, my baby!” I cry. “What are you doing here?”

He returns my embrace, cupping the back of my head so tenderly. “I never got your card. I got worried.”

I cry onto his shoulder. “Oh, Augustine,” I sob. “Mr. Thursby died.”

He holds me tighter than before, rubbing his hand up and down my back. “I know,” he says quietly. “His lawyer told me. That’s why I came here.”

I look up into Augustine’s face, his dark eyes and hair, the shape of his nose and the sharpness of his jaw. How beautiful he is! No wonder his wife cannot keep her hands off him. I sob as I look at him, seeing myself, seeing Ebernote. Augustine kisses my forehead and helps me up off the floor. “Let me take you home, Mama. To Pirlipat. Come see your grandkids, and spend the holidays with us. It’s been so long.”

I cling to Augustine’s hand. “There is something I must tell you, son...”

“Mama,” he says sternly. “It’s okay.” The look in his eyes speaks of knowing. “What’s that in your hand?”

I look at the letter and its broken seal. “I don’t know.” I sit on the edge of the bed and pull out the letter from inside. “Ebernote left it to me.”

Augustine stands before me as I read the letter in silence.

“My sweet Sybyll. I have gone over every thought in my mind on how to make this right. It was an accident that killed your husband, but it was by my hand that began it. I have made you a widow. I have made your child fatherless. I must pay for my crimes. My terms are simple, and they are easy to accept. I must ask that you marry me, and I insist that you accept. We know that boy deserves it, and that you want it. I have loved you from the moment I saw you step off that train, and I have harbored hatred for your husband ever since. He has had the one thing I never will. The one jewel I cannot add to my fortune. Marry me, Sybyll. After all these years, I beg of you to marry me. Let us be together. Let us never again share a bed in secret. Come home to me and I will be yours. Yours everlasting, Ebernote Thursby.”

“Mama?” Augustine says softly.

I fold the letter back up and place it inside the envelope. I close my eyes and let the quiet wash over me. My chest feels heavy, but it comes from the inside of me. “I love you with all my heart, Augustine,” I tell him simply. “And I am so sorry if I ever...”

“Don’t,” he says quickly. “Mama, it’s okay. Really. You don’t need to tell me anything. I already know that...”

I look at him scoldingly. “No! Young man, let me finish.” I choke on my words and fight to keep composure. “I know all those years you just wanted to stay at home, and I kept insisting on school and...”

“Then come home with me.” He takes my hand. “There’s nothing keeping you here anymore! Why stay alone here to rot away when you have a family who wants you with them?” He smiles so brightly at me, something Ebernote never did. “Come home. We’d love having you there with us.”

I look around the cold and empty room, and place myself in Augustine’s arms again. “There is still much work to be done. But I can do that anywhere, I suppose.”

I feel something heavy in my pocket, and I pull out Ebernote’s ring. “This is yours.” I place the ring upon Augustine’s finger. “Your father would want you to have it.”

Augustine looks at it, bitter and angry for the briefest flash. Then he looks at me and he smiles. “Thanks, Mama.”

I pat his hand and sniffle. “Let’s go, baby. Let’s go.”

We leave the house, and I sign the lawyer’s document before leaving for Pirlipat with my son. The trip seems surreal and strange, and the farther from the North Pole we get, the warmer I begin to feel inside. I can breathe. My shoulders feel light.

I sell the coal mines and my property in the North Pole. I move everything down to Pirlipat, where I buy a residence near Augustine and his family. It is different, but it’s a needed change. I think of Ebernote from time to time, and I take out his letter and read it to myself. I am thankful my son is not a coward like him, and I can be grateful at times that he never sent this letter. But there are days, many of them, on which I regret the wedding we never had, the children we never brought into the world, or the man he could have been. But there is much ahead of me, and I will not be held back by what could have been.