A week after Juliet's funeral, Romeo received a package.
No sender name. Just his name written in fierce, bold handwriting that stopped his breath.
Juliet's handwriting.
He opened the envelope with trembling fingers.
Inside was a letter—folded carefully, aged at the edges, like it had waited years to be read.
> Romeo,
If you're reading this… I guess I finally stopped waiting.
Don't feel guilty. Don't cry for me. I loved you knowing I may never get anything back. And that was enough.
You once walked past me like I didn't exist. But I loved you anyway.
You married someone else. I loved you still.
You never looked back. I never stopped looking.
People called me stupid. Said I was wasting my life waiting for a ghost. But you weren't a ghost to me. You were home.
If I could live this life again, I'd still choose you. Every time. Even if it ends the same.
I hope you smile when you remember me. I hope you wear guilt like a scarf, not a chain. Because I don't want you to suffer.
I just wanted you to know that I existed… and I loved.
And in the end… you did come back.
Thank you.
For holding my hand in the end. That was all I ever wanted.
Juliet.
Romeo folded the letter slowly and held it to his chest.
He didn't cry.
He sat by the window of his apartment as the sun dipped low, holding the last words of the girl who loved him beyond time.
And for the rest of his life, no matter how many people praised him, no matter how successful he became—
Romeo never forgot Juliet.
Because true love never asks for attention.
It just… stays.