(Ruby's POV)
Three weeks after the dream, a letter arrived.
I was in the conservatory, painting the new orchids that had just bloomed. The flowers were a deep purple, almost black, with delicate white centers. They reminded me of the orchid Nicholas had left on my pillow that first night. The one that had been dying, the one I had tried so hard to save.
Mrs. MacLeod appeared in the doorway. She was holding an envelope. Her face was unreadable.
"This came for you," she said. "No return address."
I set down my brush and took the envelope. The paper was thick, cream-colored. My name was written on the front in handwriting I didn't recognize. It was neat, careful, like someone had taken their time.
I opened it.
Dear Ruby,
I know I don't deserve your time. But I've been thinking about you. About the way I treated you. About the years I wasted being jealous of what you had.
