Letters to The Fighter ✔

29. Goodbye

Dear Peter,

We're getting close to the end.

I don't know what you'll decide to do when you receive these letters. Maybe you'll open them, maybe you won't. If you don't, I won't hold it against you. I'm doing this because I need you to know why we ended up this way.

Mom always told me that I was strong like my grandmother. Now, as I sit here, staring at this stack of letters, I realize that I am a coward.

I'm not strong enough to face you. The thing is that I don't know what you're doing these days. Maybe you've moved on. Maybe you've found a girl who isn't going to break your heart, and I truly, sincerely hope that you have.

I'm doing this so that I can be free of my guilt. I need to know that you'll find some way to forgive me. It's difficult to move on from something that I never even got the chance to call mine, but I'm trying. I promise you, I am. If I die tonight, I need to you to know that not a day goes by that I don't think about your eyes.

Science said I had a year to live, but that was two years ago. I'm getting better, Peter. Not cancer-free, but better. There are very rare cases in which someone lives beyond their prognosis, and a lot of times, they live a full, happy life. Honestly, Peter, I don't think that you need to live to be eighty in order to have lived a happy life. You just need the right people and the right memories.

I don't know what my future holds for me. All I know is that every day, I awake not fearing that it would be my last, but instead to the thought: what if?

What if I had stayed with You?

Although I didn't die biologically, my heart did on the night that I left.

It was the night of your championship match. I begged you not to fight, but you had made your choice.

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" I asked Zoya as she finished zipping up her final bag. Zoya was going home for a bit. I was coming home permanently. New York City no longer had anything to offer us. Since I was sick, I needed to spend time with Mom and Dad. Zoya wanted to do the same with her Mom.

"I'll be fine," she smiled weakly, " It's you I'm worried about."

She had been by my side for everything. Treatments, nights I'd stay awake due to either being ill or my thoughts haunting me, and I had done the same for her. Charlie was still in a coma. We didn't know how long he'd be this way, but each second was haunting.

I shook my head, bringing my frail arms up to tie my hair.

"I'll be fine. You'll visit, right?"

Zoya walked over and wrapped her arms around my neck in a sweet embrace.

"Every weekend," she said, her eyes shining with tears. Her hometown in Virginia was only two hours from my home. It wasn't going to be hard to meet up. We would also be seeing each other during visits to Charlie.

"What are you thinking about?" She asked once she saw my distant eyes focused on the clock on the wall.

I sighed, leaning back against the couch. Tonight was the night you had been training for for years.The big fight.

"I wonder if he'll win tonight."

I swallowed hard, ignoring the way that my throat ached with the movement.

"Are you sure you want to leave?" She asked, sighing as she adjusted the bags that hung from her shoulders.

"Don't worry about me, you'll miss your flight."

I playfully pushed her towards the door, making sure to give her one last hug. I watched her walk out of our apartment, leaving behind the amazing memories we'd made living together. She turned and blew me a kiss before stepping into the elevator.