In another life, like the one I was living before Eli came back to me, I would have let everything he said to me at the cemetery crush me, break my heart, and fill my head with doubts and insecurities. I would have run away, locked myself in my room, and cried myself to sleep every night, playing what he said to me on a loop until I believed every word he spoke and convinced myself he was right—this could never work. We were both too broken to ever be one whole, united piece.

I didn’t lock myself away, I didn’t cry myself to sleep every night, and I didn’t replay his words in my head over and over until I had no choice but to believe them. I refused to believe them. I refused to walk away. I refused to think he was right. I didn’t know how to fix his mind and it killed me. I’ve spent so many years protecting him and trying to save him, and now, when he needed me the most, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to help him say good-bye to Rylan, to grieve for the friend he lost and to stop feeling like it was all his fault, but I wasn’t about to give up. Eli never gave up on me. Not through a year of deployment, not through five years of hell, and not when he came back and thought I’d let him go and moved on.

I don’t know how to heal his mind, but I know I can heal his heart. I know how to make those broken pieces fit back together again and I won’t give up, I won’t leave, and I won’t stop until he comes back to me.

“Are you sure you don’t want something to eat?”

I look up at Kat and smile, fluffing the pillow behind my back that I leaned up against the door.

“I’m good. I’ll grab something if I get hungry,” I tell her, getting comfortable in the makeshift bed I put on the floor right outside Eli’s room.

After he walked away from me in the cemetery, I gave him a few hours to cool off before I went to his house. He had locked himself in his room and refused to come out or answer me, no matter how many times I knocked. After Kat and Daniel both tried to get him to come out, we waited twenty-four hours before calling his therapist. When he couldn’t get Eli to answer his knocks or talk, he told us to just give him time. He assured us that he didn’t believe Eli would harm himself and that he just needed to be alone to heal. Since we could hear him shuffling around in there every so often, and could hear the muffled sound of his voice talking to himself, or most likely Rylan, we let him be. For the most part.

Kat and Daniel had a daughter to take care of and couldn’t be here around the clock. I had nowhere to be and nowhere else I’d rather be, so I sat down in front of his door and hadn’t moved in ten days other than to stretch, go to the bathroom, or take a quick shower. I always leave food for Eli outside of his door, and it’s always gone when I come back from those sporadic, few minutes I’m gone. Knowing he’s eating what I’ve left out for him, even if he doesn’t open the door when I’m sitting right there waiting for him, gives me a little comfort at least.

Both Kat and Daniel rotated shifts, stopping by as much as they could, checking in on me, sitting with me to keep me company or forcing me to eat. They stopped telling me to go home and get some rest after the first two days when they realized I was adamant about not leaving.

“I just cleaned out the fridge and filled it with fresh stuff from the store. If I don’t see at least an apple or some of that lunchmeat gone by the time I come back, I will hold you down and force-feed you,” Kat threatens.

I laugh quietly, picking up the shoe box and resting it on my lap.

“Thanks for asking Daniel to grab this for me,” I tell her, lifting the lid and setting it down on the floor.

“Are you kidding me? This has been the highlight of my life. YOU HEAR THAT, ELI? THE HIGHLIGHT OF MY LIFE. YOU WILL NEVER LIVE THIS DOWN!” she shouts at Eli’s closed door.

She can joke all she wants, but I heard her sniffling from the living room when I first started doing this, and I saw her red and blotchy face from crying when she hurried past me to go to the bathroom. Having her roll her eyes at me and yell that she had something in her eye has been the only thing keeping me from falling to pieces each time I did this.

Kat leans down and kisses the top of my head before turning and heading back out into the main part of the house. Shifting the pillow behind my back a little higher, I reach into the box and grab one of the envelopes, pulling the letter out and unfolding it.

“‘Shelby, remember that day in your studio, the week after you’d gotten home from college?’” I read aloud, forcing my voice to remain strong and level when reading Eli’s words all over again make me want to curl into a ball and cry for him.

“‘In case I forgot to tell you, that was the day I knew I was going to fall in love with you. I don’t know if you’ll ever read this and I’m not really good at this whole letter-writing thing, so I’m just going to tell you a story in these letters. I’m going to tell you the story of us, from my point of view, so you know exactly what I was thinking. I’m hoping it will be a better way for you to see that I meant everything I said in my first few letters. I love you, Shelby. Only you. Always you…’”

I pause when I hear a sniffle from the living room and smile to myself in spite of my sadness. Resting my head against the door, I lift the letter up higher and raise my voice a little louder as I continue to read Eli’s story to me.

I want him to listen, I want him to hear and remember. Remember what it was like when two broken people could heal each other. Remember what it was like when he loved me so much that he lived through five years of hell to come back to me. Remember what it was like when two people from opposite worlds found everything they’d ever needed in each other, and never let it go. Not through war, not through death, not through pain, not through people trying to tear them apart, and certainly not through this.

We would make it through this as well, I had to believe that.

As I read Eli’s words, I imagine him leaning up against his side of the door, right behind me. I continue reading as I shift to my side, holding the letter in one hand and lifting the other over my arm to press my palm against the door. Resting my head right next to my hand, I keep right on reading, imagining him holding his hand up against mine through the door. It becomes so real that I can almost imagine I feel the heat from his hand against mine through the thick wood.

I keep reading until my voice gets hoarse. I keep reading until I have to struggle to keep my eyes open. I keep trying to get through to him the only way I know how, and I refuse to stop fighting.

I won’t give up, I won’t leave, and I won’t stop until he comes back to me.