Page 64 of Returned Mail

Everything in me stops.

I read the sentence again. Then a third time. She opened my letters? All of them? My grip tightens on the page.

“What the actual fuck?”

You have every right to be angry about that. I know it was wrong. I won't pretend it wasn't.

I stare at the line.

“Damn right I'm angry about it.”

A stranger read my letters. Not one, not two, several. Maybe all of them. Every stupid thing I wrote because I thought only Monica would see it. Every apology. Every bad joke. Every time I admitted I was scared.

Every— I stop.

Heat crawls up the back of my neck. I feel exposed. More exposed than I have any right to feel sitting in a tent surrounded by men who have seen me bleeding. I almost fold the page. Almost stop. Then I see Monica's handwriting beside me, so I keep reading.

The reason I'm writing now is because a letter from Monica arrived here after being returned by the postal service. It was addressed to you. It was marked “return to sender” and “undeliverable.”

My eyes move to the second page. So that’s Monica's letter.

I tried to contact Monica again. She did not respond. I opened that letter too.

Something inside me sinks. I let out one short, humorless laugh. “Of course you did.”

But there's no real anger behind that one. I mean, if I were to find a stack of mail, I would probably—no, don’t start making excuses for a person you don’t even know.

She ended the relationship in that letter. I am enclosing it because I think you deserve to have the words that were meant for you, even if they are painful.

My eyes stop moving.

The noise around me disappears. I can’t hear the generator anymore, even though I know it’s still running. The sound of someone snoring in the background also disappears. There are still voices outside. But for a second, I can't hear any of it.

She ended the relationship.

I am so sorry you are finding out this way.

I don't know what happened between you and Monica. I only know what I read, and I know that doesn't give me the whole story.

But I also know you kept writing because you did not know she had left.

I didn't think it was right to keep this from you.

I am enclosing Monica's returned letter. I still have the letters you sent to her. I didn't want to send them anywhere without knowing what you wanted done with them.

I hope you are safe.

I'm sorry.

—Mia

My hand starts shaking, enough that the paper moves.

I sit there and read the last two lines again. I just found out my fiancé broke up with me through a stranger’s letter, and those two lines are the ones that get me. Maybe because she doesn't know me. Maybe because she read enough to know where I am, and still didn’t pretend to understand anything else.

Maybe because I haven't heard anyone say they hope I'm safe in a long time.

I fold her letter, set it beside me, and pick up Monica's. I know that this stranger just told me the truth without even reading her letter. I've known for weeks.