Yours, Always

#WHY DISTANCE CAN NEVER FADE TRUE LOVE !

April 15th, 1942
England's London Thomas, my dearest, The days feel longer without you here. Since you left for the front, the city is different. The streets are quieter, the skies darker, and every time the sirens wail, I hold my breath and whisper a prayer — not just for our city, but for you.
I keep your photograph by my bedside, the one we took by the river last summer. I often touch the corner of it, as though by doing so, I can feel your hand again. Do you remember that day? The sun was high, and you made me laugh so hard that I spilled my tea. Those moments feel so distant now, like another life.
Mother is well, though she worries about you just as much as I do. She knits scarves for the soldiers, hoping one might reach you. I’ve taken up helping at the community shelter, handing out bread and tea to those who have lost their homes in the bombings. Even though it keeps me busy, my heart stays with you. Please write soon. Even the smallest word from you would mean the world to me.
Yours, always,
Elizabeth
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May 2nd, 1942
Somewhere in France
My Sweet Elizabeth,
Your letter was a light in this dark place. I read it over and over, imagining your voice with every word. It made me remember the river too — the way your hair danced in the breeze, the way you scolded me for making you laugh too much. If I close my eyes, I can almost feel that day again.
Love, things are hard here. The nights are cold, and the days are loud with the sounds of war. We march through fields and sleep in trenches, and though I am surrounded by men, I have never felt more alone. But your letter — your words — they remind me why I fight. für Sie. For us.
I carry the handkerchief you gave me in my coat pocket. It smells faintly of lavender still, though the scent fades a little more each day. It’s a small piece of home I refuse to let go of.
Tell your mother I am grateful for her scarves — I hope one reaches me. Tell her I promise to come home to you both, no matter how long it takes.
With every beat of my heart,
Thomas
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October 18th, 1943
England's London Thomas, my dearest, The sky appears permanently gray as the days get shorter and colder. Another winter is coming, and I worry about you more with each passing day. Are you cozy? Do you consume enough food? I lie awake at night and wonder where you are, if you’re safe.
I learned of a battle near the town from which you last wrote. I held my breath, waiting for the telegram boy to pass our door, praying he would not stop. He didn't, but I never forget the fear. I still walk to the river sometimes. It’s quieter now, fewer people, but I sit by the same bench where we once laughed and dreamed of the future. I talk to you there, whispering into the wind, hoping somehow you hear me.
Write to me when you can. Even a single word will ease my heart.
Forever yours,
Elizabeth
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December 9th, 1943
Somewhere in Belgium
My Beloved Elizabeth,
I am alive. I am safe — for now. I know you must have worried when the news came of the battle, but I made it through. The loss of many of my friends that did not comes with a heavy burden. Your letter was a comfort. Knowing you still sit by our river, still speak to me there, makes me feel less far away. I wish I could be there with you, holding your hand, promising you that this war will end soon. But I can't lie: I have no idea when that time will come. We march on, through snow and mud, but I keep moving forward with the thought of you. I picture you in your coat by the river, waiting for me, and it gives me strength.
My love, hold on. I will come back to you.
Yours until my last breath,
Thomas
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May 7th, 1945
England's London Thomas, my dearest, The conflict is over. People are singing, crying, and embracing strangers again on London's streets, but all I can do is wait by our window and watch the road in the hope that you will return to me. I have heard nothing from you in months. No letters, no word. I am trying not to fear the worst, but it is hard. Every soldier I see returning home makes my heart race — is this the moment I see you again?
Please, if you are alive, write to me. Inform me of your upcoming return. I cannot bear the thought of this joy all around me if you are not here to share it.
Forever waiting,
Elizabeth
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May 20th, 1945
England's London My Dearest Elizabeth,
I am coming home.
I write this from a small hospital in France, where I have been recovering from an injury since March. I'm so sorry I couldn't get in touch with you sooner; I can only imagine how scared you must have been. However, I am alive and healing. And now, I am coming back to you.
I think of the river, of our bench, and of you standing there with the wind in your hair. I will be there beside you again soon — not in a dream, but in life. Now that the war is over, we can finally begin our life together. Hold me in your heart a little longer, my love. I am almost home.
Forever yours,
Thomas.

#OPINION :

Elizabeth and Thomas’s letters remind us that love isn’t just about being together — it’s about holding on, even when miles and silence stand in the way. Their words show how hope can survive the darkest times, and how small gestures — a letter, a memory, a whispered prayer — can keep a heart beating.
In today’s world, where instant messages come and go so quickly, their story teaches us the value of patience, of longing, and of expressing love through words that carry weight and meaning. It’s a reminder that true love doesn’t fade with distance or time — it waits, it endures, and when the moment finally comes, it shines even brighter.

#DISCLAIMER :

This is a work of fiction inspired by historical events; any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.