Her Letter Back — after the confession

(She writes it that same night — hands trembling — after he speaks the words at last.)

My Edmund,

I write this while the stars are still bright outside my window —
for I cannot sleep, not after what you said.

"Take my breath away," you told me —
and you did.
Not with words alone, but with the truth that lay beneath them.

I have loved you quietly, stubbornly, for so long —
watching you turn and return, never daring to hope.
I thought perhaps I had imagined it all.

But tonight, you were brave enough to speak what I could not.
And so I must be brave in turn.

Yes.
A thousand times — yes.

You have long since taken my breath away, Edmund.
I am yours, and have been, in every glance, in every silence, in every secret place inside me.

Come to me soon.
Let there be no more waiting.
No more turning away.

For the stars fade too quickly —
but I would see them rise beside you, again and again.