494 The end was only the beginning.

Her grip on the letter tightened, her knuckles turning white as if she could anchor herself to the past through Harold's words. It was a torrent of feelings she couldn't suppress any longer, a release that was both cathartic and overwhelming. The dam that had held back her pain, her confusion, and her longing finally gave way, and she cried—a cry that held the echoes of the love, the sorrow, and the connection that transcended time itself.

She could feel the weight of Harold's emotions, his regrets, and his hope, all mingling within the words he had penned. It was a connection that transcended time, a love that had survived the ages, and a promise that they would find each other once again.