Page 23 of The Gathered Fragments of Us
So again, you've stood outside of yourself—still unseen and still separate. Still waiting. Still hoping.
And then—there's Caden.
He loved you once. Fully, completely. He still does—at least, he says he does. I remember how he used to look at you—like you were the answer to every question he hadn't figured out how to ask yet. He made you laugh. He made you feel seen. And for a while, you let yourself believe maybe this was it. That after everything, this love would hold.
But love, like anything, needs tending. And eventually, he forgot. Or maybe he just got tired. Maybe you did too. The long meetings, the silent dinners, the anniversaries pushed aside for flights and fires. The promises you stopped believing.
Emotionally, it has all been too much. So, you let silence speak words you never said. You rode that silence into anger. And you didn’t try. Neither of you really tried. You could have spoken up before now, but you didn't. He could have fought before now, but he didn’t.
Now here you are. Forty. Alone in Miami. Eating overpriced breakfast and writing a letter to a woman who you hope no longer remembers the pain of what this felt like, but instead looks back on it as a catalyst for the strength she built.
Looking out at the endless ocean, I see possibility like nothing I've seen before. As impromptu as this tripmay have been, my heart knows it will also be a balm to the soul. I chose me, and that has to count for something.
So what do I want to tell you?
You are not broken.
You are not forgotten.
You are not less just because someone else forgot how to love you loudly.
Your softness is a gift. Your fire is your own. Your worth was never dependent on anyone else remembering it. The trials of life you experienced are the building blocks for the strong woman you have become.
I hope you have found a way to settle your heart by now. That you've found it in that heart to forgive him. Not because he deserves it, but because you do. Because bitterness only eats the one holding onto it.
I hope you let yourself love again—whether that love is poured into others or allowed to flow back inside.
And I hope you still walk barefoot in the sand, that you smile at sunrises, ride rollercoasters, read books by the dozens, and live life without apology. I hope you found a way to settle your heart around giving life and that you have somehow found a way to make it all happen for you. I hope that in writing this letter, we are encouraged to do something different. Because it's time to remember—it is never too late. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
You made it through.
And you're not done yet.
With everything I have and with all of my love,
~Felicity
Chapter 10: Worth Every Penny
~Felicity~
The spa treatment was everything I didn't know I needed.
They called it the Master in Time, which sounded dramatic—but honestly, they weren't wrong. Basically a full day of self-care, from full-body exfoliation to a rich cream hydration aimed at turning back time. I can't say that it definitely reversed my age, but my skin glowed like it remembered how to breathe again—and I felt years younger.
The facial alone could've changed my entire outlook on life. Four different massages—each one designed to lift, tighten, and smooth. The collagen mask placed over my skin afterward sent me into an almost meditative state. I swear I emerged looking like someone who had slept for a week and had never had a day of stress in her life.
Then came the Thai foot reflexology, followed by a manicure and pedicure that made me grateful that I brought open-toed shoes just to show off the results.
It was indulgent. Over the top. Probably ridiculous.
And I loved every single moment of it.
Afterward, I laid out on the beach for a bit in a cabana—safe from the sun but alive with the ocean air. The cabana came replete with a misting fan and endless cucumber water. I sat with my Kindle, opening up my library of books and casuallyjumping from one book to the next—not really invested in a story but not really caring either.
By the time I got back to my room, it was nearly eight.
I almost didn't go out. I could've curled up with room service and a rom-com, called it a perfect night. But something in me whispered, 'Not tonight. Go. Get out of the room.'
