My Dearest Prudence,

Time has a curious way of softening the edges of memory, yet when I think of you, everything remains as vivid as the day we met. You, with your boundless spirit, the way your laughter turned heads in a crowded room, the way your eyes—always holding a mystery I longed to solve—left me both enchanted and aching for more.

We were young then, weren’t we? Reckless in our love, certain we could outrun fate itself. And for a time, it felt as if the universe conspired in our favor, weaving our lives together in golden threads of sun-drenched afternoons by the river, whispered dreams over steaming cups of coffee, and the quiet kind of love that made the world feel smaller when you were in my arms.

But love, for all its beauty, does not always bend to the will of those who hold it. There was a part of you I could never reach, a door you never opened, no matter how much I longed to step through. And I see now, with the wisdom that time grants, that some hearts are not meant to be fully known, some stories not meant to be read cover to cover.

That night, when you looked at me with tear-filled resolve, I wanted to fight for us. I wanted to beg you to stay, to tell you that love, in all its imperfections, was still enough. But you knew better. You knew that love, true love, is sometimes knowing when to let go. And so, with a kiss that still lingers on my soul, you set me free.

I did find love again. A love different from ours—steady, grounding, built on the foundation of a life fully shared. And yet, Prudence, I would be a liar if I said I never think of you. There is a part of my heart that remains yours, untouched, a sacred corner where your laughter still echoes and your touch is still warm.

You were my first great love, and in another life, perhaps, we would have been each other’s last. But even now, in this life, I carry you with me—not as a regret, not as a sorrow, but as a beautiful truth. You were a love that changed me, a love that made me brave, a love that, in its ending, taught me how to begin again.

With all that I was and all that I am,
Eugene