To Whom It May Concern

[Author's note: this is a precursor to Alena's Game. This is the secret letter in the brown envelope from Alena to her husband Quinn, referred to by Syn and Cassie in What We Say In The Dark and later in When One Day We Are Gone, sealed for a year so that Alena's husband can't read it. Please refer to the stories mentioned above (as they are released) for further context]

---

This is ironic. Throughout our relationship, I've always been the pragmatic and analytical one while you are, let's face it, the hopeless romantic. Yet here I am, trying to put something down on paper that adequately conveys how I feel about you. As I'm sure you'll have guessed, this isn't my first attempt. It feels more like my thousandth, but fortunately they are kind enough to always empty the waste basket before you arrive so that you don't see.

You remember the day you proposed, when you went down on one knee at Niagara Falls in the middle of the snow? There was a crowd, but you still went down on one knee anyway and asked me to marry you. I remember that day like it was yesterday, that look on your face, and how your eyes lit up when I said yes.

The truth is, I got caught up in the moment. You had obviously planned it all and picked the exact right place and time, and with the crowd watching too, there was no way I would have said no. But to tell the truth, I felt like a fraud. The hardest part was I think you knew that, but you went ahead anyway.

You were patient with me, and kind. You knew from our very first date what I was like, how fickle I can be sometimes. Right from the start, you were playing with a bad hand, dealing from a position of weakness. When I told you I loved you, I thought I did. That was, until I saw the look in your eyes when you told me you loved me, and I realised that I didn't come close to that, that perhaps I was incapable of opening up like that and giving my heart completely, irrevocably to someone else.

I freely admit that I wasn't the perfect wife. Sometimes it was just easier to throw myself into work and let the home front tick along in the background. I tried to make you happy, I wanted to give you what you needed but that was the problem: you wanted so much more than I did, and I began to fear that I might lose you. Not that I wasn't happy with us. You have always been my best friend, and the life we built together has been wonderful, far exceeding any expectations I had as a little girl growing up and wondering what being with someone would actually feel like.

The fact is, there was something missing and while I came to accept that it was a small thing that I could live without, you kept digging, trying to find out what it was that I needed. Your lists, your surprises; it was exhausting just trying to keep up sometimes. I know that you know I gave up and was ready to settle into a pattern, keeping on keeping on. But then you found it and it was like a light turning on. No, it was like an atomic bomb. You saved us from the monotony and monochromy and filled my world with change and colour.

When first we met, I fell in with you, watching to see where we would go, waiting to see who we would become. I never once thought there was something beyond it all. But in the end you were right, and you proved it by suffered so terribly for me, to show me the way. You gave me everything without asking for anything in return. You made me complete.

I had believed I was lost. I believed I was so much less than I was. You saw the truth, through everything I put in your way to slow you down. I don't know how you found this thing inside of me, how you brought it up to the light, into the day. I understand it all now, looking back on it all from the end. I thought we were falling into the pit, two helpless bodies adrift, spiralling around each other as we fell. But you were lifting me up, out of that secret, unspoken darkness that has been there throughout my life, showing me what it means to give, to really love, and to be loved in return.

You made me want to live like a falling star, burning bright against the darkness, showing the entire world what love could mean. As I reached out, you reached for me. As I pushed, you gave way. The boundaries fell. I had no idea what life meant until you gave me your life to hold in my hands, trusting me with everything. You showed me that I was worthy.

All my life, I never had control and you gave it to me, stepping back, releasing me. All my cruelty was inflicted with the best intent, though not always perfectly. I hope you forgive my missteps. The harsher I became, the fiercer you were to stay the course, and it burned away my demons. I could see how it exorcised the demons in you, too. All your life until this moment, unable to let go of any little thing, transmuting into the awe-inspiring bravery of committing yourself to freefall, so that I could catch you.

Even now, at the last, I still feel there is more to this, there are still places to explore. I wanted to give you everything, as you have done for me. I do not want to go where you can't follow. I wish we had more time.

Of all the pain I have inflicted on you, this is by far the worst, and it's the only pain I would ever take back if I could.

I love you, Quinn.

I'm ready.

---

To Whom It May Concern:

His favourite colour is yellow. Specifically, sunflower yellow; paler shades don't cut it, apparently.

He has a predilection for whiskey, but it makes him snore terribly.

He has a genetic predisposition to high cholesterol, but he will not tell you that. I had to find out when he left his medical tests lying around. As he gets older, make sure he doesn't ignore it.

He prefers a paddle and is fearfully afraid of the cane, but the way his eyes shine afterwards is unforgettable.

Do not put the paper in with the plastics, otherwise you'll hear all about why segregation of recycling is important. He takes it very seriously, so you have been warned. He has been known to safeword over this in the past, which opens up very specific avenues for mental cruelty, now that I think about it.

He must always sleep on the side of the bed near the door. There is no arguing with him on this one. He will not admit it, but there's some chivalrous self-sacrifice in his head about being the first one that an intruder would have to face. We have never had an intruder, but I guess he likes to be prepared.

He does like to be prepared. Let him order his life with his lists and timetables. Don't try and change his deep urge to put everything on a calendar. I tried.

Don't leave him kneeling too long. He's carrying a knee injury from school football, which he will not complain about even though he is in agony after five minutes. He will kneel as long as you tell him to, but then he will hobble around the house for a week afterwards and you will feel like an awful person for doing that to him.

He detests marmalade.

One day when you are cuddled up together and it's quiet, ask him about the waterfall.

The only advice I will give you is this: enjoy growing old with him.

My greatest regret in all my life is that I wasn't allowed that chance.

---

Follow me for updates to this and my other stories. If you like what you read, please leave a comment or a star rating. Constructive feedback is always welcome. If you want further adventures, or to check out my other stories, my story page is here.