Dear Travis,

I don't usually write letters, but I believe this is a lot easier than trying to ever talk to you in person again.

There are a ton of questions I have right now. But I can't really ask them because I know you won't respond. Because you're not here and I believe not coming back.

Which is fine with me. It's not like I would ever want to see you again.

I've decided the only reason I am writing these letters is to help me. After you left, I felt closed up. Locked away from real life. Living in a fantasy that you would come back.

So I know the only way I can cope is to talk to you. That is always the way I could escape my life before our marriage when I am living at home.

This is the best way. This way I can speak my thoughts and feelings and times that are happening in my life that I would talk to you about anyway.

So this isn't for you. It's for me.

To help myself move on from you.

So, in a way, your leaving me can help me.

Or at least that's what I'm trying to do.

I will be telling you the most important times in my life and feelings when I write these letters. I someday hope you will be able to read them.

Maybe one day.

So you can be reminded of all that you lost when you walked out on me. And our marriage.

Even though I'm alone, I wish you the best in your life. Even if it's not with me.

Jeanie.

I always thought that I would be a poet.

Tell the stories of lives and feelings in a few simple words that spoke more to anyone than a full book.

But sometimes what you think might happen, and what actually happens, are two different things.

Like for instance, I thought that my family, the Clayton's, would be together forever. My father would walk me down the aisle and be the grandfather to my children.

Yeah, well, that didn't happen.

Instead, he left my life and family, and my Mother married another man.

Or I thought that somehow my life couldn't possibly follow in the footsteps of my father.

But it did.

And now I am alone just like my Mother.

Except for this time my husband is not with me for multiple years, no. He was my husband for seven months.

Seven. Months. Quite a guy, everyone would say. Especially my Mother. Before I was married, she was quite obsessed with finding me a perfect husband, one not like my father.

And she loved Travis. She really did.

Until he left.

Then she despised me because of it.

But it's fine. I kind of despise me too, because I don't know how I could have fallen for such a man who didn't love me enough to stay married to me.

And that's the sad part. I loved him. With every part of my being, I loved him.

Still, love him.

Yeah, nothing ever happens like I'm expecting it to be.

There is a slap of my arm.

I snap my head from out of being buried in my folded arms as I glance at the red mark on my arm.

"You were sleeping again."

I put my arms under the table. She is wrong, but I isn't about to correct her.

My Mother, Anne Reynold, liked to have everything in their proper order. So even though throughout dinner time everyone is yelling and arguing at each other, it still meant I have to sit and eat like a normal person.

Which I am. I know I am. And since every time I come over to my Mother's house for dinner, I have to endure the yelling and screaming curse words from one parent to the next.

Which makes me want to disappear.

"Sorry," I mumble.

"Speak clearly, Lara Jean."

Oh, and she happens to be the only person in the world to call me by my actual name.

"Are you enjoying your dinner? I made your favorite, just for you," My Mother says, her smile looks like it is plastered by a doctor.

Even though it isn't my favorite I still try for a smile.

I don't answer but glance at my stepfather's expression. He appears like he usually does, with a frown on his face, and a glare in between his brows. I remember being terrified of him when I first met him.

And he does not seem like he is enjoying my stay for dinner.

"Didn't we dear?" Mother asks John.

But he does not say anything.

I ate a few more bites in silence. Mom starts up another conversation with her husband, and John reacts like he usually does.

With yelling. Especially if it has anything to do with me.

My Mother met John just one month after my dad left. I was twelve. She liked him immediately but never bothered to introduce us. They were engaged when she brought him to meet me.

He was not happy when he found out I was in existence and was going to be his stepdaughter. He almost called off the whole marriage because of me. But my Mother somehow convinced him that I wouldn't be a problem. She said that she would ship me off to school.

Ship me off she did. A boarding school for six years.

Even when I got back when I was eighteen, my life was not better. He is still here and is upset and angry at my returning.

He has continued to be this way to the present.

Once the yelling subsided, I excuse myself to go to the kitchen to get out the dessert I made for the special occasion.

"Anyone want some cookies?" I implore, bringing in a plate full of them. I set it on the table, right in between John and Mother.

They both took a few. Mother goes on to tell me how good they are and then continues to talk to John as if I have never interrupted them in the first place.

While the man in silence ate his food, just staring at me, Mother keeps talking.

Once dessert is eaten, I said that I am going to head out. They were used to me leaving as soon as we were all finished.

So I thought I could just leave.

Wrong.

"Ah, actually Lara Jean, I have to talk to you for one second. Hold up. Come sit," my Mother pats the seat I just vacated.

I obey and sit next to her.

"Now, I've been talking to some of the mothers at work, and you know the Wilsons? And their son, Nathaniel? He says that he wants to meet you, and maybe get together," her expression is full of excitement.

Now, this is what I meant when I said she tries to match me up with some guy.

"Mom-"

She interrupts me, "Now Lara Jean, it's been a year. You are still young, and still very pretty," she says, and at that exact moment, John coughs, "And should maybe think about trying to date a little, maybe find another guy."

I am just about to facepalm, "Mother!"

"Don't 'mother' me. I know what's best for you."

"That's what you said about Travis," John says, drinking from his glass, inhaling down another cookie.

Mother glares at her husband, "We will not mention that man at my dinner table."

I bit my cheek inside my mouth.

"Mother, I don't really think I'm quite ready to move on. It's only been a year," I try to explain, hoping just this once she will understand.

"It only took me a month," She points out.

"Well, I'm not you," I declare.

"Clearly," John mutters faintly.

Mother shoots him a look of disapproval.

"I'm just saying that Travis is history, the jerk, so you should try your best to move on."

"I'm trying," I state, "but it's not like it's that easy to get over somebody you once loved."

"Well, it sure is easy for him to get over you," John says as he stands, walking out of the room.

I close my eyes, feeling the bitter blow hit me like a ton of bricks.

Nothing like getting my regrets thrown back in my face.

"John Reynold!" Mother stands up, and walks out of the room, following her husband. I stand as well, but walk to the front door, eager to escape their yelling.

A door slams just as I close the front door behind me. I walk quickly to my car, wiping my cheek with my hand.

Once inside the car, I start it up and drive out of their driveway.

I make it back to my apartment in a matter of minutes. I park my car on the side of the road and pull out my phone.

Then I scroll through my contacts until I find the one I want. I press the call, and it picks up on the second ring.

"Hello?" The voice asks.

"Fran?"

"Jeanie?"

I smile, "Hi."

"I thought you were at your mom's."

"I was. But then they started arguing again, so I left."

"How did the cookies go? They like me?"

I nod to myself, "Oh yeah. They should since we spent three hours making them. Are we still on tonight?"

"Yeah. You want me to come earlier?"

"If you're able, that would be great."

"Well yes, I mean I'm only in the middle of a very important date, so yes."

"You're married, Fran," I remark.

She laughs, "I know. Like I said, a very important date with my husband."

I smile into the phone but feel my heart slightly break, "You're just full of honeymoon hormones. And I'm sure he can spare you. I've been without you for two weeks! He can wait," I say, and she laughs.

"Okay, I'll pass on the message. But I will be there in like five minutes."

"Bye."

"Bye, darlin. See you soon." she hangs up.

Franny Jacobs has been one of my best friend since we were babies. Just recently she became Fran Levi, so I've been without her company for a while.

I am able to grab my bag out of the trunk when she pulls up in her car. She hops out and we walk inside together.

"You ready?"

"I brought the Nutella, oh yeah I'm ready."

I laugh, "Nights never complete without it."

"C'mon. Let's go inside. And then you can tell me what happened at your mom's house."