We receive many letters, and usually they are all urgent, with their authors vying for an immediate response. But this one was different. The sender left the letter personally at the post office with a ten-year delay in sending it. And after this deadline had passed, it turned out that in the delivery address he had written: "To those who loved as we did...". The letter was opened by a postal lawyer, and after reading it, he forwarded it to our publishing house. Even one glance at the letter suggested that it had an unusual story to tell. After all, the envelope in which it was sent evoked the feeling that its place was rather in an antique shop window than here, on the table among the untidy pile of business papers. And if so, then it had to be opened by the fireplace, in the evening, among books and stories from the past…
The letter.
This letter is not addressed to anyone in particular. I have left it up to fate to decide who will receive it. My life story may seem so unbelievable that it could be mistaken for fiction, but that doesn't matter. People often prefer stories to be real and real life to be forgotten, like a poorly written story. Whether you choose to believe me or not is up to you. For me, it was important to share what happened to me, or rather, to us. If it's easier for you to consider it a figment of my imagination, then so be it. After all, we have already lived our lives anyway. And everyone who leaves this world, in one way or another, ceases to be part of it. Although, as it turns out, it's not always so...
This story is in memory of her.
I was a recluse - in childhood, school, and university-for as long as I can remember. After university, I could still occasionally have a beer in a bar with my university friends and play games online. But over time, even they came to accept that I really was much more comfortable on my own. So, soon all my old friends went on their own paths in life, and I was left alone in my happy world.
I continued to cherish my reclusive lifestyle, taking it to the point of absurdity from an outsider's perspective, but to complete comfort from my own point of view. And I was particularly lucky with my profession, which allowed me to work in complete remoteness from people.
Every recluse, of course, must have hobbies to compensate for the lack of social contact. Mine were sports, nature, food, and books. Having become financially independent, I left the big city in the valley. Then, a year ago, I finally managed to move closer to the ocean and acquire the most remote house on the road, endlessly winding among the coastal cliffs and forests and ending with abandoned mines years ago. There hadn’t been any random tourists there for a long time. And local walkers rarely got to my house, so further, into the forest, the wild and, in fact, only my territory began. And if it were not for the occasional passing technical transport, I could imagine that I live on the edge of the world.
Every weekend, I would take my mountain bike or off-road vehicle and head to the places that made me move to these parts. It seemed to me that only there, among the majestic rocks, the cry of birds, the sounds of the ocean, the rustle of the forests, and the total absence of people, I became myself. And whether I was admiring the surrounding nature during the day or the endless stars in the sky at night, I was happy. Always. And always by myself!
During one of my outings, I accidentally discovered a turn off the main road that I must have overlooked before. The secondary road was small but well-preserved, and it veered off to the side. Despite the branches hanging quite low, it was still possible to drive through. There was even a slight feeling that the passage was deliberately cleared to the width and height of an average car. And I drove through."
After passing through the green arch, I was stopped for a second by a sign that read "Private property," but I hesitated for only a moment. Don't think that I don't care about the law; it's just that in exploring the area around my house, I unexpectedly stumbled upon a lost world. Nothing could have stopped me from exploring it, least of all a sign. And I could always pull out the trump card of my neighbour's introduction if I happened to run into the mysterious owners.
After meandering for another ten minutes towards the sea between rocks protruding among ancient trees, I unexpectedly found myself in a clearing, the existence of which I had not even suspected before. It was on the edge of a cliff, clutched by low rocks on both sides and bounded by a forest at the back. Believe me, I know what a perfect view is. But here... This one was something special. I have always said that nature cannot be fully described in words. You have to see it, breathe it, dissolve in it... And in front of me at that moment was the most stunning creation, a masterpiece. But there was still something elusive about it - a mystery that I had yet to unravel.
I got out of the car and walked forward. I don't know how I hadn't noticed before, but there was a small and cosy bench in the middle of this stunning place. And there was also the elusive feeling that everything around wasn't just the work of nature. Even the bench was clean as if someone had wiped it down the day before.
After about five minutes, my awe at the beauty gave way to curiosity, and I began to look around. As I looked more closely, I saw a fence and a gate hidden in the shadow of the forest, with a sign reading "For sale" and a phone number partially erased by nature. A path could be seen through the gate, likely leading to a house a little further up the hill in the forest, partially hidden by the tree canopy. Even from a distance, it was clear that the house was not of this century. Visually, however, not only did it retain its beautiful exterior, but it looked perfectly habitable. However, despite my piqued curiosity, I had had enough of private property violations today. So, I pushed aside my burning desire to sneak into the fenced area and walked back to the cliff's edge.
Several more hours passed before I finally decided to leave.
Days went by. I would come there on my bike, and in bad weather, I would take the car, bringing my laptop with me to work. I actually lived there. That became my place of strength. I both dissolved and recharged in it. And there was something elusive about it as well. The feeling that I was back in my childhood home, even though the house where I grew up was hundreds of kilometres away.
Weeks or months passed by like this. One day, before heading back home, I decided to sit in my car a little longer, enjoying the warm evening and the stars. And somehow I fell asleep without noticing it…
I woke up at dawn to the sound of birds singing. Barely straightening up in the car, I realized it was time to somehow put an end to this obsession and return to normal life, though, what was I talking about... It was at that moment that I saw her…
No, not like that... Just writing that I saw her would be wrong and inaccurate.
The dawn was just beginning, its first rays casting a gentle light, and there on the bench, I saw a girl. It seemed to me then that she was woven from the rays of the morning sun. She was sitting on "my" bench with her back to me, gazing out at the sea. The morning breeze was gently playing with her hair, and I stood frozen, caught between the magic of the scene and surprise, as I had never seen anyone here in all the time. And suddenly someone had taken my bench.
Despite my complete lack of experience with girls, my legs were already carrying me toward this magical stranger.
I walked over and coughed lightly, standing behind her. She didn't even turn around. After I coughed a second and third time, she jokingly asked me, without turning around, if I had caught a cold in the night by falling asleep in the car with the windows open, and if I wanted tea...? Indeed, there was a thermos and two cups beside her. Yes, two cups... as if she had been deliberately waiting for me.
Without all the details of my first date with the stranger who knew as many books as I did, and also loved sunsets and sunrises, the ocean and the wind, then I'll just say that we talked all day long. And by evening, I asked her if I could give her a lift, but she declined and said that she lived nearby.
Yes, do not doubt it... I did not ask for her name or address. And in general, that day remained as if shrouded in a happy mist. But yes... Neither address nor phone number…
And sure enough, when I got home and realized it, I was there the next morning at dawn. But of course, neither on that day, nor the next, nor a week later did I see her again. I, like a wounded animal, walked all over the area but didn't find a single house except the one with a "for sale" sign. She could have arrived there, like me, on a bicycle. But from where? I blamed myself, realizing that if I hadn't seen her for a year before, it meant she was simply visiting someone and I was unlikely to see her again.
Work had taken a backseat, or rather, it had been completely forgotten. I was desperate and kept going back there again and again. And one day, when a heavy rain began, I decided to fall asleep to the sound of it, hoping that she would at least appear in my dreams. And it happened just like that. She was standing in front of me, looking at me with her beautiful eyes, raindrops cascading down her face and hair. But despite the raindrops, it seemed to me that she was crying.
As I woke up, I didn't want to open my eyes still hoping to find the answer in my dream that had been cut short. A ray of sunlight broke through the clouds and blinded me even through my closed eyelids. Squinting slightly, I opened my eyes and saw her again!
This time she wasn't sitting on the bench but leaning on the car hood as if she was waiting for me to wake up. I remember her smile, her huge eyes, and also the fact that the sun hadn't risen yet, and the light that made me squint came from some unknown place.
As usual, she started the day with a joke, asking why I loved to sleep in the car so often and whether it was really that comfortable.
At first, I was confused and behaved like a complete fool, melting in her gaze and forgetting everything once again, just like on the first day. But then, remembering weeks of desperation, I decided that I had to ask her something about herself- her name, address, and phone number. Questions poured out in a torrent, but not only did she not give any answers, but with each question she became different - pensive, sad - and soon said that it was time for her to go. I tried to stop her or at least accompany her. But no... She walked away along the path into the forest.
Yes, undoubtedly... I was not about to suffer the torture of weeks of despair again and after a minute, I could not bear it and followed her down the same path. But as you might have already guessed, my attempt led to nothing but getting lost.
Even now, after so many years, I can't describe my state of mind. The only thing that kept me from jumping off the cliff was the hope of seeing her again. I was happy to have met her again. But the despair of having offended her in some way, and not understanding when I could see her again, left me restless.
I kept coming back again and again, but she was nowhere to be found. I searched through all the social networks of the valley and surrounding towns... and nothing. The only thing that kept me from going insane was her image. I even hacked into police databases and went through all the passports issued in the valley. But apparently, she was not a local and was just visiting someone.
I don't know how much time had passed in despair, or how much longer I could have held on. But one night I had a dream that I was sleeping in the car on our clearing, and she was sitting next to me on the seat, looking at me... I woke up in the middle of the night with only one thought. I grabbed the keys, got in my car, and drove to the place which in my mind I had not left for a long time. Arriving there, I turned off the engine, opened both doors and fell asleep to the sound of the ocean.
I woke up not to the sun or the cry of seagulls, not to the sound of the ocean or the forest... I woke up to her lips. She kissed me and asked how long I planned to keep sleeping. I was very afraid that it was a dream, and I didn't want to open my eyes, realizing that I might never see her again except in my dreams. But when she nudged me in the shoulder and said "enough pretending, you're not sleeping," I finally opened my eyes. She was sitting sideways in the seat, looking at me with a smile, and asking how often I drove barefoot in my pyjamas and from which masquerade I had run away. Did I hear her? No, probably not... The dawn sun was shining through her hair, and her eyes seemed to be a part of that morning sky, adding to her smile. I reached out, touched her hair, leaned in, and kissed her.
In my life, I've read many books, but probably no author could have conveyed what I felt. All I can say is that at that moment, it seemed to me that I didn't exist at all, and together with her, we were part of the same beautiful world that surrounded us. Part of the dawn and the sea, part of the rocks and the morning forest... I looked at her and drowned in her eyes. And she smiled and said that, of course, she was very pleased, but the tea had already cooled down, and whether I had anything to go with tea. That was all her! The morning magical flower, the romantic breeze, and the laughter that, like tinkling bells, echoed over the ocean. I looked and couldn't understand whether she was a human or something unreal and otherworldly until she pinched my arm rather painfully and told me that if I didn't go for tea now, she would drink it herself.
It was our third meeting. Remembering the second one, I didn't ask her any questions about her. Not one. I just was with her. Listened to her, talked... Was I in love? No... Because falling in love is to rethink the world anew and compare your feelings with the previous state. Falling in love is rediscovering what you didn't feel before. I didn't fall in love, my consciousness seemed to have been erased and rewritten anew... I loved... Loved to the point of losing my mind, and it seemed to me that we had been together for as long as the sun rises and the ocean washes the shore.
We were together until the sun began to set, and she said she had to leave. I took her hands and desperately asked if she could come with me. I knew where it would lead. But what choice did I have? I didn't understand and tried to find a way out of this vicious circle.
She got sad again. It seemed to me that she wanted to say something but couldn't, as if she herself, like me, didn't understand what was happening. I looked into her bewildered eyes and saw a reflection of something that was inaccessible to both her and me. I don't know how, but I suddenly understood what to do next. It was as if I glimpsed the answer in the depths of her beautiful and sad eyes, peering into a place that may have been forbidden for me to look into by the very universe.
After she disappeared into the forest, I walked up to the gate of the house and dialed the number on the "for sale" sign. The person on the other end answered surprisingly quickly. I asked one question: could I buy this house? The reply was just one word – "Come."
I drove very fast, knowing that I had to return to her by nightfall. There was only one goal in my mind, and I had to accomplish it. Did I expect to see a standard real estate agency office? Probably not…
I stood at the end of a small historic alley in the old part of city, facing a beautiful three-story building. There were many like it that had been preserved. And every time before, as I walked around the city, I admired them. But this one was different. It was 300 years old, if not more, but it looked as if it had just been built. Inside, according to the plaque, there had been a law firm since 1815. I had long felt that the world had changed for me the moment I turned onto that small stretch of road, and everything that was happening now was just a chain of events.
Upon entering, I felt as though I had stepped into a time machine. The candles, the decor, every element spoke of a world where planes did not fly outside and there was no internet. At the end of the hallway, a door was open, and a voice from inside asked me to come in.
The old doors at the entrance led to a room entirely made of old wood, and shelves with books from floor to ceiling. It all reminded me of a medieval library that looked like it was taken straight out of a movie set. I even froze a little at the entrance.
My stupor was interrupted by the voice of a very old man sitting in a chair, dressed like most of the lawyers of the valley, but with the presence of the charm of everything around. He asked me to sit down and said that my case was special, so he would personally handle it. There were papers on his desk, but he didn't even look at them. His gaze studied me so intensely that I felt like he could see right through me. Breaking the silence, I told him that I didn't want to keep him for too long, given that evening was already upon us. But he said that his age was such that he did everything without rushing and asked me to tell him where I got their telephone number. I asked if it was really important since it could have been anywhere on the internet in the ads. This always happens when an exclusive item is for sale. But he didn't really listen to me and continued to scrutinize me with his gaze.
“Why do you want to buy this particular house...?"
I felt that the answer to this question would be decisive for the sale. I wasn't interested in the cost, I was willing to give any money. But I understood that it would not be taken if I did not answer his question correctly.
Slightly haltingly, I began to tell him about the breathtaking view, how comfortable I felt there without people wandering around, and how much I liked this house and the garden around it. I talked about this and other nonsense for a long time, but he seemed not to be listening to me. A few minutes later, he struggled to get up, apologized, and said that I wouldn't be able to buy the house, and he was sorry for wasting my time.
I sat in a daze, staring at him. Listen, I can't leave. I love her. And this house has to be ours. I don't know how I know it, but it's true. Please help me. I won't be able to live without her…
He stood there looking at me. I couldn't tell if it had been a minute or an hour, even the candles stopped flickering. At some point, it felt like he was reading my thoughts. And then, in an instant, he nodded, sat down, turned the papers towards me and said two sentences: "You have fulfilled the conditions of the contract! Sign the papers, the house is yours!" When I asked him how much the house cost, he simply replied that it was mine, and I would receive all the details by mail... later.
I took the papers, but I couldn't think constructively at that moment. I slowly walked towards the door, mumbling something like "thank you, I'll pay for everything." He looked at me strangely, the way my father used to look at me lovingly. I turned around to leave, and he said one last sentence: "Take care of her, son, she meant everything to me!"
I arrived at our place with her and no longer doubted that she would come again in the morning. I fell asleep waiting for her, clutching the keys in my hand.
She knocked in the morning and then jumped into the car. I pretended to be asleep, as usual. She leaned over to me and whispered in my ear, "Is it ours now?"... "Yes," I replied, "It's ours now."
We lived in this house together for our entire lives, never even leaving for the valley. You may ask how it's possible to live with someone for so long and still remain happy. I don't know, perhaps it's all because of her. From the day I looked into her eyes, I understood that she was special and different. I cherished her every day and every night. She lived with love, and love breathed life into her. Love nourished her from the inside, and when she was sad she almost faded away, but when she was happy, she was absolutely real.
I had aged, but she had not. And many years later, I received the letter that was promised to me back then, at the law firm.
In it, I read about a man who founded the first law firm in the valley and built a house in the most beautiful spot on the coast, which he discovered on travels with his wife. I read about how they had a daughter, and how his wife died giving birth. How he almost went mad with grief and how he found strength thanks to his little daughter. How she grew up, and he saw more and more of his wife in her. How he gave her the best private education in the country, and how one day she fell ill and died from pneumonia.
I read about how he buried her in the garden, and then how he met her on the bench in front of the house that he and his wife had installed. I read about how he fired all the servants who had begun to think he was crazy because he talked to a ghost invisible to them. And how one day, unable to bear it anymore, he moved to live in his own law firm in the valley.
The letter was accompanied by papers for a charitable fund that he had founded, as well as rights to the land that would be maintained as long as the fund exists.
Thanks to the letter, I found a tombstone with her name on it at the far end of the garden. After that, I went to the alley where I once bought a house. But I found nothing there - neither the house nor even a mention of it. There was only a large and beautiful square, at the entrance of which there was a sign stating that it was founded by a fund created by the first lawyer of the Valley who lived here a couple of centuries ago.
Today, at the age of 85, I am writing these lines to you while she is sitting opposite me, smiling, telling me something, and drinking tea. She hasn't changed at all, unlike me. I don't know how many happy years, months, or days I have left. But tomorrow, I will take this letter to the post office. I have donated all my savings to the fund. And now, as you are reading this letter, my happy life is at an end.
I wanted to tell someone about her, the one who embodied life, love, and infinity for me. I don't know what will happen to her after my death, but I know one thing - the world and all its essence consist of forces that we have not yet understood, and one of them is love.
I met her on the cliff edge and found my happiness right there... Forever...
***
The letter ended, and I put it aside, sitting by the fireplace for a long time, trying to make sense of what I had just read. It was Friday evening, and I already knew what I would do tomorrow. In the morning, I drove down to the valley and found the post office that was mentioned on the envelope. Surprisingly, it still existed. I asked the locals about the old road along the cliffs and the coast and finally found it. I drove slowly, afraid of missing the turn, but eventually, I saw two old trees that were mentioned in the letter and a sign in front of them that read "Private property. "As I approached the two old trees, I saw that there was no longer a path between them, and I had to struggle through the overgrowth. The road beyond was poorly preserved, but I managed to reach its end after about thirty minutes. I saw the same clearing that was described in the letter, which, unlike the road, was well-tended. But there was no house…
I walked on and saw a bench. I don't remember how long I sat there, but when the sunset lit up the sky with its beauty, I decided it was time to return. Approaching the road and stopping at the edge of this beautiful place, I turned for the last time to bid it farewell.
In the rays of the setting sun, I saw a house and a young couple sitting on the bench…
I left, and soon after my publisher printed this story, changing some details so that no one else would be disturbed!
What is love? This question will be asked by humanity forever. But personally, I found the answer to it on that clearing. Love is the universe, it's just that many of us are not ready to discover it…
_
® Anatoliy Kavun
The entire text of the story is the author's. Copyright is officially registered.
p.s. The text posted on the resource is the version for the online publication. There is also a more detailed version for printed publishers.
The story was translated from the author's original language. We would be glad if you would draw our attention to the inaccuracies of the translation.