Chapter 8.1: Goodbye, My Once Enchanted

Hi To You,

This letter's a bit long, and I hope you'll read it all the way through.

There was a letter I wrote for you after my birthday—every word was me trying to step past my shyness.

It carried a piece of my heart, something I was scared but also hopeful to share. I talked about how grateful I was for your kindness, joked a little about how awkward I get when you're around, and shared a quiet wish to become real friends.

That letter is still with me, never sent—a reminder of a moment I didn't know how to fully step into. A connection that, deep down, I hoped could grow into something more.

Looking back, I see now how my feelings for you slowly grew—quietly, unexpectedly, like something blooming in the background.

I told myself it was just friendship, but in my heart, it was always more.

You became that person for me, YOU—the one I found myself drawn to, even when I tried to hide it.

I admired your kindness, your calm strength, and the light you carried without even realizing it. What started as simple appreciation grew into something much deeper.

At first, all I really hoped for was a small friendship—maybe something I could quietly treasure. But over time, my heart moved beyond that small hope.

That letter I wrote wasn't a grand confession. I never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable or pressured.

It was just me, reaching out, trying to build something real. But even then, my heart already knew—it wasn't just friendship I was hoping for.

You were the risk I quietly wished I could take.

Then, slowly, the warmth I felt between us started to fade.

You grew distant, and I couldn't understand why. The silence felt heavier than I expected it to. And that hurt—it hurt because by then, I knew what I felt for you wasn't small anymore.

Letting go of someone who means more to you than they realize—that's not easy.

It's not that I stopped feeling anything—if anything, the silence made those feelings clearer. More real.

I didn't want to walk away.

I kept hoping, deep down, that maybe you'd notice the person behind the awkward smiles. That maybe you'd want to keep me close.

But I had to face the truth—that there's a space between us now that I can't reach across, no matter how much I want to.

So I'm stepping back—not because I stopped caring, but because I care enough to give you the space that's already there.

Even if it hurts me to do it.

I hope you're at peace. I hope life is being kind to you.

And if you ever do think of me, I hope it's with lightness—not as someone who wanted too much, but someone who just quietly cared a little deeper than they expected to.

That first letter I never sent talked about your eyes—how they caught my attention.

It's strange now, how something that made me feel so alive is something I avoid meeting.

Your presence used to make my days feel a little brighter. That feeling never really went away.

Even if this never reaches you, I still want to say thank you.

Thank you for your presence. For being you.

You made me happy, just by walking by.

I used to dream of a simple connection—just a "hi" in passing, or maybe one real conversation someday.

That small dream feels far now, like a place I can't get back to. But it still meant something to me.

My letting go is the only gift I have left to give—a way to respect the space that's grown between us.

A space that no longer seems to have room for the feelings I quietly held onto.

So this is my goodbye—not just to the idea of friendship, but to the hope of something more.

I'm letting go of the "what ifs," the small hopes, the quiet daydreams.

It's not what I wanted. But it feels like the right thing to do—for you, for me, for what we once were.

I used to pray for you. I asked God if you were meant to be mine.

But maybe the red string tied to my pinky doesn't lead to you after all.

Still, I'll always wish you find the kind of love and peace you deserve—the kind that makes you feel seen and understood.

I'm not asking for anything. This isn't about wanting something back.

I just want you to be happy, even if that happiness isn't with me.

I'm moving forward now—slowly, gently—carrying what I felt for you as something I'll always remember.

Goodbye, my once enchanted.