When Hate Writes Back
*flashback*
Chapter 7 — Letters Across the World
It all started with a brown envelope.
I was ten, and the school had paired us with pen pals from across the globe — a "cultural exchange" they called it. I didn't care about culture or exchange. I just wanted to survive elementary school without feeling invisible.
The first letter was awkward. Tiny scrawled handwriting, slightly messy, full of misspellings.
Hi. My name is… uh… let's call me orion. I like drawing monsters and eating chocolate. You?
I remember smiling despite myself. Orion? That was ridiculous. But also… kind of perfect.
I wrote back immediately:
Hi Orion. I'm Ella?you can call me el I like reading and writing stories. Monsters sound cool. What's your favorite one?
*Flashback ends*
And that was it. Letters became a ritual. Every week, a new envelope would appear in my backpack, a small piece of the world I'd never seen. Every word felt like someone was saying, I see you. You're not alone.
By the time I was twelve, we'd moved onto online chats — quicker, easier, private. I told him my secrets, my dreams, the things I couldn't say to anyone else.
And somewhere along the way, I started… liking him. Not the username Orion, not the faceless boy on the other side of the screen. The person behind it — the one who made me laugh, made me feel safe, made me believe in the idea of someone caring without ever seeing me.
I didn't know it then, of course. I couldn't have guessed that years later, the boy I'd grown to love would be sitting across from me in a classroom, smirking like he owned the world, completely unaware of the girl he had comforted across oceans.
Oblivious. Completely oblivious.