Chapter 3: Set Up
The letter
I'd been trying to write—a love letter, of sorts, to the woman who had been my rock, my strength, my everything for all these years.
Eleanor raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smile. "For me? What could you possibly have to say to me that you haven't already?"
I leaned forward in my chair, my eyes meeting hers. "You know me, Eleanor. I could spend eternity telling you how much I love you and still not find the right words."
She walked over to the desk, her hand resting gently on my shoulder.
"Lucky for you, I've always been a patient woman. But you might want to start before you run out of ink," she teased, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she laughed softly.
I picked up the fountain pen, twirling it between my fingers. "Where should I begin, Eleanor? With the first time we met, or perhaps the day you agreed to marry me?"
She took a seat on the edge of the desk, her eyes fixed on mine. "Start with the truth, Arthur.
The simple, unvarnished truth," Eleanor said, her voice soft yet firm.
I nodded, dipping the pen into the inkwell and letting the words flow from my heart. "The truth is, Eleanor, I've always admired your strength. You've faced every challenge we've ever encountered with such grace and resilience. From the day we moved into this old house and had to scrape together every penny to keep it standing, to the countless times you've nursed me back to health—your strength has been my guiding light."
Eleanor's hand reached out, her fingers brushing against my cheek.
"Arthur, you make me sound like some sort of Amazonian warrior. I'm just a woman who loves her husband and wants the best for him."
I covered her hand with my own, my thumb gently tracing the lines on her palm. "That's exactly what I mean, my dear. You've faced each storm with a quiet determination that has always inspired me. Remember that time our pipes burst, and we had to live without water for a week? You turned it into an adventure, didn't you?