Rain fell gently that night, painting the studio windows with soft streaks of water. Evelyn sat in silence, a cooling cup of jasmine tea before her and a blank sheet of paper waiting to be filled.

She stared at the page for a long time before finally beginning to write. Not because she intended to send it—this letter wasn’t meant for anyone. But her heart felt full, and the only way to breathe tonight was to let it spill onto paper.

Her hand trembled slightly as the pen touched the white surface.

> "To anyone I’ve ever loved… and maybe, still do."

She exhaled. The rain continued to fall. Soft,...