DEAR ANASTASIA
March 6th, 2xxx,
Hello, Anastasia.
It has been three hundred and sixty-four days since we stopped using the name etched with humiliation, hardships, and burdens. Tomorrow, it’ll mark the first year of our enviable life.
You are no longer the woman without anyone nor anything to call yours. Everything was oddly perfect—but even so, I never once felt uneased by how serene each day passes by. I have been enjoying the leisure of receiving time from the people we treasure, gifts from the friends we’ve made along the way, and a promising present and future with the family we made with love and affection. This is the life we used to picture.
That’s why, before I completely erase the marks of being burned with nothing but flaming anger and self-pity, I figured I should put you
