°EPILOGUE°

I am sitting on the small bed, a paper on my lap and a pen in my hand.

I am writing a letter to her...

She is not going to write me back. She has never once written back after the hundreds of letters I have sent her over the past six months.

But I do not write to get a reply.

I write for her to know I still care about her and I think about her...

And I still love her...

Maybe she will never give me a chance. Maybe she will never forgive me for all the pain I caused her.

But that is not reason enough for me to stop.

Because if I stop, then what am I living for?

The reason I wake up each and every day optimistically in this dark, lonely and cold place is because of Camilla and our baby.

They are my source of strength.

Source of happiness.

I wa