The Ink-Stained Letter– Part 2: The Chance

A week after Jordan mailed his final, heartfelt letter—unsigned, unassuming, and delivered quietly to both Nick and Melissa—he’d given up hoping for a reply. Some silences are loud enough to be permanent.

Then, one rainy afternoon, he heard a knock at the door.

He opened it to find Melissa, hood up, soaked from the drizzle, clutching a folded umbrella.

“Hey,” she said, eyes tired. “Can I come in?”

Jordan stepped aside, stunned. “Yeah. Of course.”

She took off her wet jacket and sat on the edge of the couch, like someone unsure if they were staying or leaving.

“I read your letter,” she began, eyes fixed on the coffee table. “You finally shut up long enough to say something real.”

Jordan sat across from her. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“That’s the point,” she said. “You kept doing—like you were trying to undo gravity.”

“I thought if I just explained…”

Melissa looked at him sharply. “Jordan, that letter I wrote—it was my mess. My choice. Not yours to explain, or redirect, or protect Nick from. And you made it worse because you couldn’t just let the truth land where it had to.”

He looked down, guilt washing over him again.

“But,” she added, softer now, “you’re not a villain. Just a fixer with a guilt complex.”

Jordan let out a short, bitter laugh. “That sounds generous.”

Melissa smiled faintly. “It’s not. I’m still angry. But I also know you didn’t mean harm. Nick knows it too. He just… needs time. A lot of it.”

Jordan nodded slowly. “Fair.”

She stood up. “He’s in Denver with his sister. Says he’s taking a break from the city. From all of us, really.”

“Do you think…” he started, then stopped. “Never mind.”

She tilted her head. “What?”

“Do you think he’ll ever talk to me again?”

Melissa considered it. “Eventually. Maybe. But not because you fix it. Because you let it be broken, and wait.”

She walked to the door, then paused. “For what it’s worth, I don’t regret writing that letter. I just regret how it got read.”

Jordan gave a small nod. “Me too.”

She left without another word, and he didn’t stop her this time.

---

Three Months Later

Jordan checked his mailbox, expecting the usual flyers and bills. Among them was a single envelope. No return address. Familiar handwriting.

Inside, a note:

“Got your letter. You’re still an idiot. But I know your heart was in the right place. I’m not there yet. But I might be one day. –N”

Jordan exhaled.

He didn’t fix everything.

But maybe… he’d stopped breaking it.

Writer of emotional, twist-filled stories that explore the messy beauty of human mistakes and redemption. Read my latest tale, The Ink-Stained Letter, here: https://cuentosnociertos.blogspot.com/2025/05/the-ink-stained-letter.html