Chapter 4 UNEXPECTED DELIVERY
Elias
The letter arrived on a Tuesday, and Elias almost threw it away.
He was at the mailroom in the English department, picking up what he assumed would be the usual stack of boring paperwork. Reminders about faculty meetings he didn’t need to attend. Flyers for campus events he wouldn’t go to. Maybe another passive-aggressive note from the department secretary about turning in his grade reports on time.
Instead, there was a pale pink envelope with his name on it.
Elias stared at it for a moment, confused. The envelope had a small stamp in the corner that said “VALENTINE’S PROGRAM” in swirly letters, and his mailbox number was written in careful, nervous handwriting.
He definitely hadn’t signed up for this.
Someone must have put his name down as a recipient. Probably as a joke. Or maybe the program was just randomly assigning people. Either way, it felt like a waste of time.
He should throw it away. He had office hours starting in twenty minutes, and he still needed to grab coffee before dealing with whatever freshmen showed up with questions about their essays. The last thing he needed was some anonymous Valentine’s nonsense cluttering up his day.
But his hands were already opening it.
The paper inside was the same pale pink as the envelope, shaped like a heart. Elias felt something twist in his chest. Whoever wrote this had actually used the heart\-shaped stationery. They’d committed to the full ridiculous Valentine’s aesthetic, and for some reason that made it harder to dismiss.
He unfolded it slowly, standing right there in the mailroom like an idiot, and started reading.
To someone I’ve only seen in fragments.
Elias’s breath caught.
I don’t know if you’ll even read this. I don’t know if you’ll care. But I’ve spent three months watching the way you underline passages in books at the library, and I think you deserve to know that someone notices.
His hands were shaking. Why were his hands shaking?
You read like you’re looking for something. I hope you find it.
Elias had to lean against the wall of mailboxes. Someone had been watching him. Someone had been paying attention. Someone knew he underlined in pencil, knew where he sat in the library, knew things about him that he didn’t think anyone noticed anymore.
Maybe it sounds foolish, but some nights when the campus feels too loud and I feel too small, I think about the fact that you exist somewhere under the same sky, and it helps.
Something in Elias’s chest cracked open.
He read the line again. And again. When was the last time someone had said anything like that to him? When was the last time someone had looked at him and seen something worth thinking about?
I won’t sign this. I’m not brave enough for that. But I wanted you to know that you make the world feel less lonely.
The letter ended there, signed only with “Someone who sees you.”
Elias folded it carefully and stood there in the empty mailroom, trying to remember how to breathe normally. This was just a letter. Just words on heart-shaped paper from someone he didn’t know. It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t mean anything.
Except it had been so long since anyone had made him feel seen.
After Carter left, Elias had gotten good at being invisible. It was easier that way. Easier to grade papers and attend lectures and live in his quiet apartment where nobody asked him questions or expected things from him he couldn’t give. He’d convinced himself that he liked it. That being alone was better than risking the kind of pain that came from letting people in.
But this letter made his chest ache in a way he’d almost forgotten.
Someone out there had watched him in the library. Had noticed the way he read. Had thought about him on lonely nights and found comfort in just knowing he existed.
Elias looked at the letter again. The handwriting was neat but shaky, like the person had been nervous writing it. The paper smelled faintly like vanilla, or maybe that was just his imagination.
Who were they?
The question hit him suddenly, urgently. Someone on campus. Someone who went to the library. Someone who’d spent three months noticing him without saying a word.
He tried to think through everyone he knew. His students didn’t really count since most of them barely looked up from their phones during class. The other TAs in his department were all busy with their own lives. There was that guy from the café this morning, but this letter felt nothing like that confident smile and party invitation.
This letter felt like something fragile. Something honest. Something that cost the writer something to send.
Elias tucked it into his bag and headed to his office, completely forgetting about coffee. His office hours were supposed to start in ten minutes but he couldn’t focus. He kept pulling the letter out and reading it again, studying the handwriting like it might give him clues.
You make the world feel less lonely.
Nobody had ever said that to him before. Carter had said a lot of things, but never that. Carter had said Elias was too much. Too intense. Too exhausting. Like loving Elias was some kind of burden nobody should have to carry.
But this person, whoever they were, didn’t think that. This person found comfort in just knowing he existed.
Elias’s first student showed up at 2:04, apologizing for being late and asking about essay structure. He tried to focus, tried to give helpful feedback, but his mind kept drifting back to the letter in his bag. To the question of who wrote it.
When office hours finally ended at four, Elias walked back to his apartment in a daze. The campus was still covered in Valentine’s decorations. Usually that annoyed him, made him want to avoid the quad entirely. But today it felt different. Today those decorations meant something.
Somewhere in this sea of red and pink, someone was thinking about him.
His apartment felt too quiet when he got home. He dropped his bag by the door, pulled out the letter, and sat at his desk just holding it. The heart-shaped paper felt almost ridiculous in his hands. Too sincere. Too vulnerable. The kind of thing people didn’t do anymore because it was easier to hide behind screens and casual dating apps.
But someone had done it anyway. Someone had put pen to paper and written him into existence.
Elias read the letter one more time, slower now, savoring each word. Then he did something he hadn’t planned on doing. He pulled out his desk drawer, the one where he kept important things, and carefully placed the letter inside.
Just for now, he told himself. Just until he figured out what to do with it.
But even as he thought it, he knew he was lying. He was going to keep this letter. He was going to read it again tomorrow, and the day after that, and probably every night when he couldn’t sleep and his apartment felt too empty.
Because for the first time in a year, someone had made him feel like maybe he wasn’t as alone as he thought.