"what" and “if" are two words as non-threatening
as words can be. but put them together
side-by-side and they have the power to haunt
you for the rest of your life: what if? what if?
what if? i don’t know how your story ended,
but if what you felt then was true love, then it’s
never too late. if it was true then, why wouldn’t
it be true now? you need only the courage to
follow your heart. i don’t know what a love like
juliet’s feels like - love to leave loved ones for,
love to cross oceans for but i’d like to believe if i
ever were to feel it, that i will have the courage to
seize it. and, claire, if you didn’t, i hope one day
that you will. — all my love, juliet
years ago, you fell in love with someone. somewhere in a serene garden or buzzing city, you fell in love. young and naïve as you were, you were torn apart from this forbidden love. perhaps, money caused a gap. possibly, your parents disapproved of this outrageous act of rebellion. maybe there was someone else who had caught your eye, or fate had whisked you away to somewhere halfway across the globe. despite a tearful separation, you agreed to exchange letters. this handwritten messages contained your sincere emotions, and exchanging them made you feel close. unfortunately, distance and time has a way of drifting people apart. in the end, the person who used to make your heart race stopped writing and hid those letters away in a drawer. later, you did the same. soon, your story collected dust and never saw the light. those letters stayed stowed away for what seemed like forever. years later, you return back to a little place in the countryside of france known as coeur d'amour, where you fell in love so long ago. after completing college, you move to the town filled with precious memories of your childhood and life left behind. little did you know, you are not the only one who returned to your beloved home. friends and classmates haven't been able to let go of the small town either - including the one who used to mean everything to you. it's going to take some getting used to living in a town of a population of one hundred people, and those awkward encounters are inevitable. but when you pick up those dusty, forgotten letters, you cannot help but wonder what if you never stopped writing those letters? what if now was your second chance?
