Farewell to Postcard

The weight of his decision settled on Leo like a leaden cloak. He had agreed to a marriage of convenience, a carefully constructed façade to appease his father and secure the Vanderbilt legacy. Yet, amidst the practicality of the arrangement, a pang of guilt gnawed at him. He owed it to Sunshine, his anonymous confidante on Love Postcard, to explain his sudden disappearance.

Sitting at his desk, the laptop screen felt cold and impersonal. He hesitated, staring at the familiar website with a mixture of longing and regret. It had been his sanctuary, a haven where he could shed the mask of the billionaire heir and simply be Leo, a man yearning for connection. And Sunshine… she had understood him in a way no one else had.

He reread their last conversation, a bittersweet ache blooming in his chest.

Night Owl: I can't wait to see the stars someday, Sunshine. Away from the city lights, under a vast, inky sky. Maybe then, I can finally see the path forward.

Sunshine: The stars are always there, Night Owl, even when hidden by city lights. Sometimes, all you need is a change in perspective to see them again.

Her words, like a balm, had soothed his anxieties. Sunshine had become his confidante, his anonymous friend. He had poured out his frustrations about his demanding life, his loneliness, and his yearning for a life beyond the gilded cage. She, in turn, had offered words of encouragement, a quiet strength that resonated with his soul.

Now, he was about to vanish from her virtual world, leaving only a void in their digital connection. Taking a deep breath, he typed a message, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Night Owl: Sunshine, There's something I need to tell you. Life has taken an unexpected turn, one that forces me to step away from this platform… perhaps permanently.

A lump formed in his throat as he continued to type. He couldn't reveal the truth of his situation, the elaborate web of lies he was now entangled in. But he owed her honesty, at least within the confines of their anonymity.

Night Owl: I've cherished our conversations, Sunshine. You've been a source of comfort and understanding… more than you know.

He paused, his heart pounding against his ribs. He wanted to say more, to express his gratitude, the connection he felt for her that transcended the screen. But words seemed inadequate, insufficient to capture the depth of his emotions.

Night Owl: Thank you. For everything. I wish you all the best, Sunshine.

Goodbye,

Night Owl.

He reread the message, a hollow feeling settling in his stomach. With a trembling click, he sent it, severing the connection that had become a lifeline. A sense of finality washed over him, a bittersweet farewell to the world he had built online, to the woman who had unknowingly filled a void in his life.

He closed the laptop, the silence in the room deafening. The decision was made, the path laid out. He would play the part of the dutiful son, the devoted husband. But a part of him, the part that resonated with Sunshine, ached with the knowledge that he was leaving behind a piece of himself in the digital ether.

The next few days were a whirlwind of activity. News of the upcoming wedding spread like wildfire through the Vanderbilt household. Mrs. Vanderbilt, ecstatic at the prospect of a son finally settling down, dove headfirst into wedding preparations. Olivia, initially skeptical, warmed up to the idea, intrigued by the prospect of a "fake" sister-in-law.

Haram, thrust into the whirlwind of fittings and social engagements, found herself navigating an unfamiliar world. She marveled at the opulence of the Vanderbilt mansion, the endless staff catering to their every whim. Yet, amidst the luxury, she couldn't help but feel like an imposter, playing a role in a grand, elaborate play.

One evening, as they sat across from each other in the formal dining room, a tense silence hung in the air. Leo, his gaze distant, seemed preoccupied. Haram decided to break the ice.

"So," she began, "how about we discuss the logistics of our… marriage?"

He looked up, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. "Right," he said, clearing his throat. "The details. What do you suggest?"

They spent the next hour outlining their "story." They would claim to have met at a charity event months ago, a convenient fabrication that would raise minimal eyebrows. They even practiced their public interactions, a forced display of affection that felt awkward and unfamiliar.

As the days turned into weeks, a strange camaraderie began to bloom between them. Working together to perfect their fabricated narrative, Leo and Haram found themselves sharing stories, shedding layers of their carefully constructed personas. He discovered her passion for art, a hidden desire to open a gallery one day. She learned about his love for astronomy, a fascination with the vastness of space that resonated with his yearning for escape.

One evening, while reviewing wedding invitations, Leo noticed a familiar name listed among the guests. "Dr. Evans?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow. "Isn't that your therapist?"

Haram froze, a flicker of panic crossing her features. "Yes," she stammered, quickly regaining her composure. "Why?"

Leo leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Just surprised. Thought it might be… awkward, having your therapist at the wedding."

Haram managed a weak smile. "It'll be fine. Dr. Evans is a professional."

The mention of her therapist sent a jolt through her. Dr. Evans had been instrumental in helping her navigate the complexities of life, including the loneliness that had initially drawn her to the Love Postcard platform. Now, the prospect of Dr. Evans witnessing her fabricated marriage to Leo filled her with a strange sense of unease.

Meanwhile, Leo wrestled with another dilemma. The night before the wedding rehearsal, he received an email notification – a new message from Sunshine on Love Postcard. His heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of anticipation and guilt churning within him. He clicked on the message, his breath catching in his throat as he read the words on the screen.

Sunshine: Night Owl?

Is everything alright? Your sudden disappearance… it worries me. I know we may be anonymous, but our conversations have meant a lot to me. Please, if you can, let me know you're okay.

Sunshine's words resonated with him, a stark reminder of the connection he had left behind. He longed to respond, to confide in her about the whirlwind of events that had led him to this point. But the truth, the elaborate charade he was now a part of, was too complex to explain within the confines of their online haven.

He stared at the blank message box, a battle raging within him. Finally, with a heavy heart, he typed a single line.

Night Owl: I'm okay, Sunshine. Thank you for caring.

It felt inadequate, a pale imitation of the emotions swirling within him. But it was all he could offer without revealing the truth. He clicked send, a wave of sadness washing over him as the message disappeared into the digital abyss.

The wedding rehearsal was a blur of forced smiles and awkward interactions. Leo, his nerves strung tight, found himself stealing glances at Haram. She looked stunning in a simple yet elegant white dress, a far cry from her usual professional attire. A pang of… something… shot through him, a feeling he couldn't quite define.

As the rehearsal concluded, Mrs. Vanderbilt gushed about the upcoming ceremony, showering them with extravagant praise. "My son, the perfect husband," she beamed, squeezing Leo's arm. "And Haram, you'll make a beautiful addition to the family."

Haram offered a polite smile, the weight of the deception pressing down on her. She longed for the privacy of her room, a space to shed the facade and confront the growing confusion within herself.

Later that night, lying awake in her room, Haram couldn't escape the haunting echo of Sunshine's message. "Our conversations have meant a lot to me," the words echoed in her mind. A spark of realization ignited within her. These past few weeks, the forced interactions with Leo, the shared rehearsals, the strange sense of camaraderie – could it be…?

A daring thought took root in her mind. What if… just what if… the man she was about to marry was the same man she had connected with online? The idea was ludicrous, yet a string of coincidences began to click into place. Their shared frustrations with their lives, their yearning for connection, even the veiled references to city lights and a longing for the stars.

Haram felt a surge of excitement. Could the virtual world have somehow collided with reality in the most unexpected way? The thought sent a tremor through her, a mix of disbelief and a fluttering hope that she couldn't explain. She needed confirmation, a way to bridge the gap between reality and their digital personas.

The next morning, with a newfound determination, Haram approached Leo as he sat in his study, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Leo," she began, her voice betraying a hint of nervousness, "can I ask you something personal?" Leo looked up, surprised by the sudden formality. He leaned back in his chair, a flicker of curiosity in his blue eyes. "Of course, Haram. What is it?"

Haram took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. "It's about… an online pen pal platform. Have you ever used one?"

Leo's posture stiffened. A shadow of suspicion crossed his face. "An online pen pal platform?" he repeated, his voice cautious. "Why do you ask?"

Haram held his gaze, her own eyes filled with a mix of hope and trepidation. "There's no easy way to say this," she admitted, "but… I recently used a platform called Love Postcard. And while reading some old conversations…"

She trailed off, unsure how to proceed. Leo remained silent, his expression unreadable. 

"There was a user named Night Owl," Haram continued, pushing through her nervousness. "His frustrations, his thoughts about the city… they resonated with me somehow. It felt… familiar."

A flicker of surprise flitted across Leo's face, quickly replaced by a stoic mask. "Night Owl? You know about… him?" His voice was a low murmur.

Haram nodded, her pulse quickening. "Yes. And I can't help but wonder… is it possible…? Are you… Night Owl?"

The room seemed to hold its breath. The weight of her question hung heavy in the air. Leo stared at her for a long, agonizing moment, his internal struggle etched upon his features.

Finally, with a sigh that seemed to carry the burden of a secret, he spoke. "Yes, Haram," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "I am Night Owl."

A wave of relief washed over Haram, followed by a surge of exhilaration. The possibility she'd dared to entertain was real. The man standing before her, the man she was about to marry in a mere few hours, was the same one she had connected with online, the one who had offered her solace and understanding in the virtual world.

"But… why?" she stammered, her mind reeling. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Leo ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. "It's complicated, Haram. My life… the pressure, the expectations, it's suffocating. Love Postcard was an escape, a place where I could be myself, where I wasn't just Leo Vanderbilt, the heir to a billion-dollar empire."

He paused, his gaze filled with vulnerability. "And then I met Sunshine," he continued, his voice softening. "Our conversations… they offered a connection I craved, a sense of understanding I hadn't found anywhere else."

Haram's heart skipped a beat. "Sunshine," she echoed, a soft smile gracing her lips.

Leo nodded, a flicker of pain crossing his features. "But then…" he hesitated, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Reality intervened. My father's health, the family business… it forced me to make a choice. And that choice… well, it led me here."

Silence descended upon them once again, a new understanding blooming in its wake. The revelation had shifted everything, altering the very foundation of their relationship. Haram wasn't just his wife-to-be; she was Sunshine, the woman who had offered him solace online. 

"So…" he began, his voice laced with uncertainty, "what does this change?"

Haram met his gaze, a spark of determination glinting in her eyes. "It changes everything, Leo," she declared. "This whole marriage of convenience… it doesn't have to be that way anymore."

"But what about your concerns?" Leo asked, his voice laced with worry. "Aren't you worried about the financial burden I mentioned before?"

Haram smiled, the genuine article this time. "My financial situation is actually… manageable," she revealed. "The therapy sessions with Dr. Evans helped me re-evaluate my priorities. I found a way to pursue my dream of opening a small art gallery."

Relief washed over Leo's face. "That's… wonderful news, Haram." He paused, a playful glint in his eyes. "Although, I must admit, you had me fooled for a while."

Haram chuckled, the tension easing between them. "Perhaps," she conceded, "we both had secrets we weren't ready to share."