𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙸 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 | 𝐃𝐔𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐊 [Collins]

Chapter 16 - Write to me

(revised)

"Freya, you've got a letter!" my father yelled from the living room. I ran downstairs and burst in the room, snatching the envelope from my father's hands. I immediately recognised the handwriting and a beaming smile appeared on my face as I looked at my dad.

"It's him," I informed him as I jumped with excitement. I kissed him on the cheek to thank him for bringing me such uplifting news and ran back to my bedroom to be able to read it peacefully. I closed the door behind me and threw myself on my bed, already tearing the envelope open with my fingers, eager to discover what Andrew had written to me. Two stems of flowers fell on my chest when I unfolded the letter. They were forget-me-not of a luminous light blue that reminded me of Andrew's eyes, and suddenly, his absence was deeply felt. But I had his letter, and I knew that for a moment, it would be as if he was with me.

"My love,

I wrote this letter as early as I could. I'm very sorry that it took me several days to do so, but life in Merston is pretty intense with all the training and missions we have to do. I have to confess that I immediately fall asleep when I can finally lie on my bed, but you shouldn't blame me because the faster I fall asleep, the faster I meet you in my dreams. It is honestly the best moment of the day because it feels like we are reunited again, and I can't wait for this to be real one day. I'm sure it will be soon.

I hope that you're doing well in London and that you're safe. Please, be careful and rush to shelter as soon as the sirens are heard. I don't want anything to happen to you, I couldn't bear it, especially since you're so far from me. Sometimes I fly over destroyed cities and it's a very sorry spectacle to see. I can't believe what's happening to my country and my people... I'm really glad to be a spitfire pilot because I'm not the one dropping bombs on innocent people. I don't know if I could do that... You're going to tell me that I kill people too, but I kill the enemy, and in the sky, when we are both pilots fighting over the clouds, we're equal. We just have to pray to be better than the other. I've been lucky so far, I guess. I shot down a 109 two days ago. My teammates and I are running some sort of contest on who gets the most planes. I'm proud to say that I'm the best so far. I've been upgraded to squadron leader, and it's been a great honour. It's also a lot of pressure because my teammates are counting on me and I can't let them down, but there's no place for doubt when you're up in the sky fighting for your life. Also, it means I'm earning more money. Thanks to that, we could think about having our own place maybe. Would you like it? Of course, I would pay for it, you wouldn't have to worry about anything.

I'm sending you flowers I found next to the hangar yesterday. I know you love flowers and I think these are very pretty, delicate ones. You probably know what they are, but I don't. I'm better at planes than plants. I hope you'll like them and that they'll bring you some joy and make you smile. I really miss it, your smile. I miss everything about you. You couldn't make me happier by giving me a photograph of you. It's right next to my bed and you're the first and last thing I see every day, and I always bring you with me when I have to fly, you know, close to my heart.

I don't have any more sheets of paper, so I'll have to stop there for now.

I love you more than anything in the world, more than flying, more than Scotland, more than anything. I truly do love you Freya.

Please stay safe,

Your pilot."

I pressed the letter to my heart and closed my eyes. It was as if I could hear him pronounce those last words, tell me that he loved me. If only he was there with me, I could cover him in kisses to show him how much he meant to me, but I had to wait. I reread the letter, three or four times again as I wanted to remember every single word he had written. Then, I carefully grabbed the dried flowers and placed them on my bedside table, just next to Andrew's photograph that was now in a beautiful frame, the nicest I had found. I brushed the glass from the tip of my finger, tracing his jawline, and I lost myself in contemplation. When I closed my eyes to try to see him in my memories, flashbacks of our last days together came back to me. I could picture him perfectly but not without my cheeks turning red. It was as if he was there again, his athletic frame towering over me. I felt like I just had to extend my hand to brush his torso from my fingertips. I could see the tensed muscles in his arms, the chains hanging at his neck, swinging in front of my eyes, following the movement of our bodies. I could see myself wipe the bead of sweat that had formed on his forehead, where locks of hair were stuck. I could remember his dazzling blue eyes locked with mine, making me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. I could hear his heavy breathing in my ear, in harmony with mine, and feel his soft skin against my skin. I wanted the warmth of his body again. I needed the softness of his touch and the sweetness of his kisses. I missed him more than anything in the world.