It’s 11.32 pm where I am, 28 minutes to our third year anniversary yet I have not the slightest of clue as to what to give you on this big day of ours. I swear I’ve tried to rack up as many ideas as possible in the past one month – squeezing my intellectual apparatus, taking turns hither and thither, all drafts and scribbles just to produce one grand celebration plan worth executing. I couldn’t. I can’t. Eventually, I hit the point of utter frustration because, really, why wouldn’t my brain cooperate?
You see, I was thinking of writing a plot based on the Grishaverse since it’s something that you truly hold dear. It’s a big part of your world I wanted to also take part in. So I thought, how nice would it be to put bits and pieces of our story into the universe? I could be the Mal you hate and you could be Alina, the Sun summoner. The light. My light. So I read the books. (And you know how much I avoid fantasy books at all cost if it’s not the Wizarding World.) I brought myself to delve into the Fold, trying to explore all the nook and cranny of Ravka. I even came up with a term that I thought shed the best of light to our very essence – pochemuchki, curious little children. Just like the way Bardugo describes Mal and Alina as malenchki. Aren’t we always so curious?
The next idea in my bucket list was a simple locked-room-whodunnit murder mystery game.
Oh, look, it’s 12.01 am already here. One hour to the 19th where you are, so I guess, I still have some time.
Anyway, yeah, murder mystery game, since you love all-things mystery, too. Of course I did my research. Heck, I even laid my hands on this book titled The Casebook of Forensic Detection: How Science Solved 100 of the World’s Most Baffling Crimes. I already had a case in mind as well, inspired by the Nutshell Studies of Unexplained Death by Frances Glessner Lee. I wanted everything to be impeccable because I know how much you dig meticulous details and mind-boggling twists.
Still, after such length of preparation, something was not sitting right with me. At first, I couldn’t quite put my fingers on what was wrong. Why? Why, after everything. my heart kept telling me this ain’t it?
And then it hit me.
Nothing, none, nada, not even a speckle of my plans and blueprints manages to convey let alone describe the way you’ve been making me feel for the past three years. All those fun and games, unfortunately, do not have the power to tell you – in your face – that I love you. That every single fibre in my body loves you. That I love you, with my whole heart and being.
At long last, here I am, resorting to what seems like the simplest option, writing a super long letter like in an old-fashioned novel, with my last cig of the night in hand and my coffee cup empty. When all else fails, I know I can always count on words, and words alone.
You see, writing a love letter is a challenge on its own. I can already feel my soul being stripped bare with each word I type. And the fact that I’m dating the Ad only makes it more difficult a thousandfold. The Ad who is against all-things cringeworthy, who censors the word love like it’s a viral disease worth eradicating, who steers clear of romance novels and keeps them at – not one – but hundreds arms’ length. And that’s exactly where the fun part lies. If something annoys the hell out of you, then it’s my job to do the deed. (Remember, I know how much you secretly crave for cheesy shits, but the previous passage serves to help you maintain your tough, indifferent image. You’re welcome. I deserve a peck on the cheek.)
Ad, as much as you’re more fond of Zoya Nazyalensky than Alina, you are, indeed, my Sun summoner. The first to ever exist in the Myverse. Before you, I used to wake up with a horrible, sinking feeling of longing. After you, the longing only grew – and is still growing. Very yet, it doesn’t feel horrible anymore. Now, I long for you. Every day, all I want is sit face-to-face and talk to my heart’s content with you. To unravel the riddles of the world. To walk side by side with you up and down the staircases of the world.
You, Ad, make me feel at ease. It’s the kind of comfort I can’t quite put my fingers on. Like a sense of familiarity amidst the strange lands. A soft breeze in the dog days of summer.
Ad, happy third anniversary.
Thank you for everything. For your time. For your love. For your hate. For all the affection and argument. Thank you for sticking with me even on my worst, worst days. Thank you for suppressing your ego and listening to your heart – be it for me, your friends, or yourself. Thank you for staying and watching me grow into who I am today. Thank you for not giving up. Thank you for existing. Thank you, from the deepest part of my heart, thank you.
Ad, happy third anniversary.
And I’m sorry. For all the wrongs I had done without my thick head realising. For not giving you enough love that you deserve. For ever not being there when you needed me to. For ever making you feel insecure and guilty. For asking too much of you. For joking about things I shouldn’t have. And thank you, once again, for bearing with my infuriating arse for three whopping years. You deserve an award for that.
Ad, happy third anniversary.
Do know that you make me happy, and I couldn’t ask for more.
Sometimes when I look at you, I feel I’m gazing at a distant star. It’s dazzling, but the light is from tens of thousands of years ago. Maybe the star doesn’t even exist. Yet sometimes that light seems more real to me than anything. And you are – have always been, will always be – more real to me than anything. Because, you see, the thing with relationships like ours is that nothing is ever guaranteed. The only constant, for that matter, is the end.
However, if you allow me, let me create a constant only we can possess. A universe where we can plunge into an adventure in the Unsea one day and battle Grindelwald the next day. A world where we can go on an excursion to an island off the Devon coast with no personal invitation needed and make our own version of Thunderhead.
Ad, happy third anniversary.
All things considered, let’s take things up a notch, shall we?
Ad, happy third anniversary.
Would you spend a lifetime with me building a library between life and death with shelves that go on forever?
Because even if a book provides a chance to try another life I could have lived, as long as I’m with you, I have no regrets. I will never do it any other way.
