Something between them began to change.
It didn't happen all at once. It came slowly like a soft curtain closing little by little until the light was gone.
After the night of the letters, the silence between Elena and Adrian grew heavier each day. They still talked, still ate together, still smiled sometimes, but something inside their hearts had cracked.
The letters had opened wounds they didn't know ere still there.
That next morning, Adrian woke up before sunrise, as he always did. Elena heard the sound of the door closing, the thud of his boots on the porch, and the faint jingle if his dog tags.
She stayed in bed, staring at the ceiling. The scent of rain was still in the air.
It had been three days since she found the letters. Three days since that night when he told her how he felt. Yet the feeling in her chest wouldn't go away. Not because of what he said, but because of what it meant.
He had loved her, but he had also prepared himself to leave her if he ever needed to.
That thought wouldn't stop echoing in her mind.
When she went outside her bedroom, Adrian was already sitting at the table. His hands were wrapped around a cup of coffee that had gone cold. His eyes looked far away, like he was in another world.
"You're up early again," Elena said softly. She tried to sound calm.
He nodded without looking at her. "Couldn't sleep."
She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat across from him. For a while, neither of them spoke.
Finally, she whispered, "You've been quiet lately."
He let out a long breath. "I don't mean to be."
"Then why do I feel like you're here... but not really here?"
His jaw tightened. "Because part of me isn't. Not yet."
Elena looked down at her cup. "You're still thinking about the letters?"
He nodded slightly. "I'm thinking about everything I wrote but never said. And I still can't say."
The words stayed in the air between them, like a wall they both felt but couldn't see.
Elena folded her hands together. "Adrian, I'm not angry that you didn't send the letters. I just wish you'd told me what you were feeling. Before it got too heavy."
He finally looked at her. His eyes were full of guilt. "I didn't want you to carry my weight. You already had done so much."
She shook her head. "You didn't give me the choice, I did it in my own accord."
He flinched a little, not because she sounded mad, but because he knew she was right.
Later that day, Elena went to The Coastal Brew. Going there always made her feel safe. The smell of coffee, the quiet music, and the soft light from the big windows usually helped her think.
But today, not even that warmth could stop the sadness sitting heavy in her heart.
Her best friend, Amira, noticed it right away.
"You look like someone painted clouds over your sunshine, Ele." Amira said, smiling gently as she leaned on the counter.
Elena gave a small, tired smile. "It's nothing."
Amira raised her eyebrow. "Nothing doesn't look that sad. Is it Adrian?"
Elena sighed. "He's been quieter since the letters. I thought that night would bring us closer. But now... it feels like we're drifting apart."
Amira nodded slowly. "Sometimes, when people open old wounds, they bleed before they heal."
Elena looked down at her sketchpad. "But what if it doesn't heal?"
Amira's voice softened. "Then maybe the wound isn't supposed to be close. Maybe it's supposed to remind you that love isn't always soft."
That evening, when Elena got home, she found Adrian outside, fixing the broken fence in the small garden. His movements were sharp and stiff, like he was using work to escape his thoughts.
"Let me help," Elena said quietly, walking toward him.
He shook his head. "I've got this."
She frowned. "Adrian, please don't shut me out like this."
He stopped for a moment, hammer still in his hand. "I'm not shutting you out."
"Yes, you are," She said, her voice starting to shake. "You're building walls again just like before."
He set the hammer down and turned to face her, frustration flickering in his eyes. "Elena, not everything can be fixed by talking. Some things just take time."
"But you're not giving time a chance if you keep me pushing away!"
Her voice broke. "I read those letters because I wanted to understand you. Because I love you and all I saw was how afraid you were to let me in."
Adrian ran a hand through his hair, looking torn between anger and pain. "You think it's that easy? You think I can just turn off everything I've been through? You don't understand what it's like to carry my past everywhere you go."
She took a step back, eyes began tearing up. "You're right. I don't understand. Because you won't let me."
The words landed like a strike to him.
Adrian's expression softened immediately. "Elena, I didn't mean-"
But she shook her head, turning away. "No... You mean it."
That night, the apartment felt colder than it ever had.
Elena sat by the window, sketchbook open but untouched. Outside, the sea was calm, moonlight washing across its surface, indifferent to the ache inside her heart.
Adrian sat alone on the couch, staring at his hands. His chest heavy with regret. He hadn't wanted to hurt her, but every time he tried to explain himself, his words came out like barbed wire, protecting what he didn't need protection.
He glanced toward her silhouette by the window. Her hair caught the moonlight, and for a brief moment, he wanted to stand, to cross the room and hold her.
But fear held him tight.
The fear that his brokenness would ruin her light.
The next morning, she left early for the cafe without saying goodbye. The sound of the closing door echoed through the small room, leaving behind a silence too large for one heart to fill.
When she came home that evening, Adrian wasn't there. Only his dog tags hanging by the nail on the door. A note was sticked beside them.
I need some time to think. I'll be at the pier.
She read it over and over.
For a moment, she wanted to run after him, to say sorry for the words she didn't mean. But pride and pain kept her from doing so.
Instead, she walked to her easel, pulled out a blank canvas, and began painting.
The strokes came heavy, uneven, like her heartbeat. The sea, the pier, two figures standing apart. Between them is a space wide as the ocean.
At the pier, Adrian stood staring at the horizon. The sound of waves rose and fell like breaths he couldn't control. He thought of everything he'd said and all the things he hadn't.
The truth was, he wasn't angry at her. He was angry at himself for letting his fears turn love into something weak... fragile.
He pulled a small letter from his pocket. It was an old one, folded and worn. It was one he'd written during his deployment, back when he believed he might never come home.
He opened it and read silently:
"If I ever get to stand beside you again, I'll tell you everything. No more running, no more silence. Just the truth."
His chest tightened.
He looked up at the sky, now streaked in violet and gold, and whispered, "Maybe it's time I kept that promise."
When he returned home, Elena was asleep on the couch, her sketchbook on her lap and dried tears on her cheeks.
Adrian knelt beside her and gently brushed a strand of hair from her face. He wanted to tell her everything: how much he loved her, how sorry he was, how scared he still felt.
But instead, he just sat there quietly, watching her breathe and memorizing the softness of her features.
For now, words could wait.
Love, even broken, still had a pulse.
Maybe tomorrow would be the day they began to heal it.