Dear Duo,
I have to wonder if you’ll read this letter. It’s been two years. But it seems we’ll be seeing each other at the wedding and there are things I have to say first.
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Dear Duo,
I suppose you’ve wondered why I left. Why I left the way I did. And probably why I’m writing to you now about it. I’m no good with words—that’s your gift—but I want you to know it wasn’t you. You didn’t do anything to make me leave. And I left you sleeping because I knew that if you wok, and looked at me with those eyes of yours, I’d never have the courage to go.
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Dear Duo,
I have to explain now, because I’ll never have the courage to tell you face to face. But believe me when I tell you I was only doing what was best for you. I hear you’re happy with Zechs, so that proves I was right.
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Dear Duo,
You told me once that I didn’t have a heart. It’s not quite true. I do have one, it’s just not big enough or deep enough to love you the way you need to be loved. That’s why I left. I could never say “no” to you. I gave you everything you asked for—not that you ever asked for much—but I couldn’t give you the one thing that mattered most to you.
I remember how you looked at me after we’d been together, begging silently with all your soul to hear me say it. And the times when I made myself say it, and I saw the hurt in your eyes that told me that you knew the truth, and that you wondered what you had done wrong. Wondered why you couldn’t make me love you. I could see that you were tearing yourself apart to find the answer, but I didn’t know how to help you.
What I’m trying to tell you is that it was never your fault. Anyone would love you. Anyone with a heart, that is.
Relena’s not used to being denied anything, and the novelty of the chase will keep her happy. What I can give will be enough for her. It would have killed you.
I wish you’d been right, that I didn’t have a heart at all. Then it wouldn’t have hurt to leave you—or to lose you.
“Hn.”
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