The rain hadn't stopped since morning.
The sky seemed to bow in silence.
The earth was wet. The air, shivering.
And Rey—for the first time in a long time—felt like a child again,
unsure of who to run to when fear crept in.
That afternoon, after the writing workshop ended, one of the staff members handed him a bundle of assignments.
> "Someone asked if you could read this one personally," she said with a smile. "She said it's important."
Rey took the stack without much thought.
But when he opened the first page, he froze.
Neat handwriting.
A name written in the top right corner:
> AURELINA D. HAKIM
---
The title of her piece:
> "A Letter That Will Never Be Sent"
And its first word:
> "Dad…"
Rey knew right then—just from that one word—
that he wouldn't be able to read it the way he normally did.
Still, he kept going.
---
> "I don't know where to start, because I've never known who you are."
> "Mom says you were a good person. But sometimes I wonder…
if you were good, why did you leave?"
> "I pretend not to care.
But when I was little, I once lied to my classmates.
I told them my dad worked overseas.
The truth is, I don't even know what your face looks like."
> "I grew up without a single video call.
Without a single hug or birthday wish.
But somehow… I still kept hoping.
Maybe you'd come one day.
As a guest. Or a shadow."
> "And today, I'm not writing this to ask you to come back.
I'm writing to tell you…"
> "I forgive you. Even though I have no reason to."
> "I forgive you…
so I won't grow up carrying rage for someone I never even got to know."
---
Rey's tears fell in silence.
Parts of the letter became damp.
Not from the rain—but from his own eyes finally giving in.
The world spun.
Years he had lived as a ghost came crashing back.
He remembered the day he left his hometown, thinking he wasn't worthy.
He remembered the letters he wrote but never sent.
He remembered every moment he prayed for Aurel's happiness—even if it wasn't with him.
And now, the child born from that unfinished love—
Had written a letter… to him.
---
That night, Rey paced around his small lodging room.
The letter in his hand, like a fire that wouldn't stop burning.
> "Do I deserve to show up in her life now?"
"Would I only destroy the peace her mother worked so hard to build?"
"Or… should I say something, so she doesn't grow up with unanswered questions forever?"
There were no answers.
Only the sound of rain—falling harder outside the window.
And Rey's heart—getting heavier with every step.
---
The next day, Rey didn't show up to the writing session.
He went alone to a city park, sitting on an old bench still damp from last night's rain.
He pulled out a blank sheet of paper.
And for the first time in years… he wrote a letter.
But this time, not to the Aurel he once loved.
This one was for Aurelina—
the girl who had written to the father who never came.
---
> "To you, who once waited for someone you never knew…"
> "I'm sorry. Because I know…
waiting for a face you've never seen is one of the deepest kinds of pain."
> "I left not because I didn't care.
But because I didn't feel like I was anybody at all."
> "And now, I'm not asking for anything.
I just want to say…"
> "I'm proud of you.
Because you grew up without me, and still chose to forgive."
> "Thank you… for not hating someone you never even got to hug."
---
Rey didn't sign the letter.
He folded it, placed it in an envelope, and handed it to one of the staff:
> "If Aurelina comes next week, please give her this.
But tell her… it's from someone who only wants to be a silent observer—who cares."
---
That night, Rey returned to writing his second book.
This time, it wasn't to explain a love story.
But to tell the story of a brave teenage girl—
who chose forgiveness, even when she never received an explanation.