Something strange happened when mum, Sophie and I came back from Biestro. As expected, the food there was great and the atmosphere in the restaurant was lovely. This year, there were a lot more people than I had expected. I thought people would want to spend Christmas in their homes with their families, but that wasn't the case. It was packed to the brim, so much so that the owner had to turn the sign over from 'Opened' to 'Closed' so people would get the memo that they aren't taking any more customers.

Anyways, we came back home and mum told me to go to the mailbox and get the mail, so I did. I started sorting them on the kitchen counter and I stumbled upon a red envelope with my name boldly written on it. I thought that was weird because I never get mail, at all, not even from relatives. Grandma Maggie, the only relative I'm close to at the moment, doesn't send me mails from the nursing home. She prefers to hand me her letters personally when I go to visit.

''This is strange,'' I say, the envelope still in my hands. I contemplate opening it immediately but decide otherwise.

''Mum, your mail is on the counter,'' I yell.

''More bills?'' she yells back.

''You know it. I'm in my room if you need me.''

''Alright but come back downstairs. You still haven't done the laundry.''

''Alright.''

I walk up the stairs, the envelope in my back pocket and go into my room. Locking the door, I settle on my bed and softly open the envelope. Enclosed in it is a letter.

''Hmm.''

I unfold the letter and read:

Dear, Mel.

I know you're probably mad at me and you've probably been worried sick about me. I know that right now, you may hate me. I know that if you see me, you'd probably scream and shout and yell. Because that's how you are. I'm fine, so don't worry anymore. I'm okay. I'm safe.

I'm sorry for a lot of things, but most of all, I'm sorry for everything that happened-everything I've done to you.

I've gone very far away so that you'd be safe. I knew you'd be in danger so I left to protect you, but don't think for one second that I don't think about you every day. I miss you and I love you so much.

I know the cops are after me so I'm begging that you don't look for me because I know you'd do that in a heartbeat.

You're young, move on with your life.

My only hope is that you'll hold a piece of me in your heart and never forget all the moments we shared.

Maybe, in another life, in a perfect world, we could have been forever, but this world is shitty. It's not meant for happily ever after's.

It's not meant for us.

We didn't end things the right way but this is me saying goodbye forever.

Again, I love you so much and I'll always love you even till my dying days.

Love,

Bob.

''He's alive?'' I whisper softly, as I feel a few stray tears fall down my face. All this time, I have been worried sick but he's okay. I've been looking for closure and it's right here, in my lap. He's alive and that's all that matters. I'd forever be grateful to him for saving my life that night and defending me. I'd most likely have been dead if it weren't for him.

I want to tell and ask him a lot of things. I wish I could tell him thank you. I wish I could yell at him (he's absolutely correct in saying I would yell at him). I wish I could have said goodbye. I wish I could ask him how he's doing. I wish I could ask him why he ran away. I wish I could ask him why he lied to me about everything. I wish I could ask him why he made me go through all this.

But he's gone forever. Another man in my life has up and left me high and dry, and judging from the fact that there's no address on the envelope or in the letter, he really doesn't want me to look for him.

The letter is handwritten, the familiarity of the writing makes me laugh in between tears because he's gone but his writing hasn't changed: it's still the same messy, uncoordinated scribbling in between lines. I read the letter again and clutch it to my chest.

At least now I can move on.

My phone buzzes from my bed and I wipe my tears with the sleeves of my sweater.

J.B: Merry Christmas, Princess

Mel: Merry Christmas, Blunt

His reply is almost immediate.

J.B: How are you celebrate?

J.B: *celebrating

Mel: With the fam. Went to Biestro. You?

J.B: Nice. My parents are hosting a holiday party but I'm not feeling it.

Mel: Why?

J.B: It's just a bunch of their friends conversing about old people shit.

Mel: Oh

J.B: Wyd

Reading my ex-boyfriend's letter and crying.

Mel: Nothing much. I'm just not feeling the Christmas spirit anymore

J.B: Why? Who upset you?

Mel: Have you ever loved someone and then they disappear and you're like fuck, I thought we were good? And then you have a bunch of questions you want to ask but you know they'll never give you answers?

J.B: Yes

Mel: Was it a girl?

J.B: No

J.B: It was my dad

Mel: Do you wanna talk about it?

J.B: No, not really. There's not much to talk about. He left my mum while she was pregnant and we never heard from him again.

That's cold.

Mel: I'm sorry

J.B: There's no need to be. You did nothing wrong

Mel: I know. But if it makes you feel any better, you're not alone. We're in the same boat. My dad left when I was seven

J.B: I know. I'm sorry for making a joke out of that. I was an asshole and it was just plain cruel.

My mind goes back to the beginning of the term when we had a fight in the hallway and Principal Grande sent us to his office. It seems like such a long time ago now that a lot of things have happened.

Mel: You were an asshole lol. But I forgive you. I wasn't meant to hit you anyway

J.B: I did deserve it tho

Mel: You did. But still I'm not a violent person

J.B: Oh really? In recent memory, I remember you using pepper spray on me

Mel: Self defense. The neighbourhood isn't the safest. Btw, you were acting real sheisty that day

J.B: You tackled me to the ground when we were at the resort. I didn't even know you could tackle someone

I giggle at that

Mel: I took martial arts classes when I was younger. Guess my sensei's tactics never left my mind

J.B: Damn. So you're smart and you know how to fight? Sexy AF

Did he just say I'm sexy?

Mel: Did you just call me sexy?

I've been told I'm pretty, beautiful, easy on the eyes, but I've never been called sexy before. I've never even felt sexy before, except that time at the club when I first met Bob and we…

That's in the past.

J.B: I did

Mel: And so Blunt (pun intended) about it

J.B: I'm just being honest. You are. But more than that, you're beautiful

Holy shit! I'm blushing right now.

Mel: Stop it

J.B: Stop what?

Mel: Making me blush

J.B: I'd give anything to see your blushing face right now

J.B: Send a pic

Mel: That you wouldn't be getting

J.B: A guy can dream then

J.B: Getting ready for bed?

Mel: Nah. Laundry duty

J.B: Oh

Mel: Yea

J.B: Well we'll talk later, yea? My parents are calling me downstairs

Mel: Sure. Enjoy your party

J.B: Enjoy your laundry

I snort. Who enjoys laundry?

Mel: Weirdo

J.B: I learned from the best

I plug my phone into the charger and almost do a happy dance in my room.

Jason called me sexy and beautiful.

I can die a happy (wo) man now.

...…

By the time I finish doing the laundry, it's already 10:00pm and I'm royally exhausted, so much so that I skip dinner. It isn't really a bother though since I had already eaten for about ten people back at Biestro's.

We are only three people living here but there was a truck full of clothes. I couldn't even believe how much clothes I had piled up in the laundry basket.

Note to self: Always do your shit on time and never procrastinate.

Turning the heater on to full blast, I get ready for bed. Christmas this year was bittersweet. On the one hand, I'm grateful and happy to be alive to see my family. On the other hand, it's saddening to know that Bob is gone, maybe to a foreign country, for good.

''At least I still have me,'' I whisper and switch off the table lamp beside me.