Letter
Bells,
You don’t even see it, do you? How the icy walls you’ve built—brick by careful brick—are starting to melt? How your armor is slipping in little places and letting me in?
Don’t mistake it for weakness. It’s the bravest damn thing I’ve ever seen.
You’ve spent years being strong because you had to. You’ve carried so much expectation, doubt, and criticism on your back until it bent you into someone who thought she had to stand alone.
And yet here you are—choosing to trust me, even just in fragments. Letting me close enough to hold your fear, your fire, your beautiful, chaotic mess.
Do you know what that does to me?
It destroys me. And remakes me.
I told you, I don’t take that lightly, Bells.
Each shaky exhale, every stolen glance, and all the kisses you let me steal—it’s not just affection alone.
It’s proof you’re letting me see who you really are.
The Ava beneath the perfect smile, the viral clips, and the curated confidence.
The woman who trembles when the room gets too loud, who makes jokes to hide her panic, who still shows up and shines anyway.
I’m proud of you. God, I’m so proud of you.
You’ll never hear me say that enough, because you deserve to know it in your bones.
You don’t need me to fight your battles—you’ve already won more than most. But if you ever need someone to stand beside you when your knees want to give out, I’ll be there.
Not as armor. Or even as a shield. Just as the man who is grateful down to his soul that you’d even let me close to you.
So when tonight’s event gets overwhelming, remember this: you don’t have to carry it all. You don’t have to smile if it hurts.
No longer will you carry yourself all alone anymore. I’ve got you, Bells.
Love,
S