In the early hours of the morning he heard a quiet knock and the sound of the door opening. He took note of the time: 3.30am. He knew who it was. She pulled back the curtain that separated his bedroom from the main room, and looked in. His eyes met hers. He asked her if she'd been to her room.
"No, not yet," she answered.
He still felt lightheaded from all the drink he'd had and no doubt said a few harsh words as they argued for a few minutes.
"OK, I've had enough," she said, and got up from her sitting position on the bed. She was almost out of the door before he shouted, "Wait. Come back. I've got something to tell you." He told her what he'd done. She listened attentively and then explained. She'd written the letter, not meaning to send it and that's why she'd thrown it in the bin.
"Wasn't it obvious it was all crap?" she'd asked of the letter.
To him it hadn't been, which was why they were having this argument. She was even more angry now.
"You know, you only told me because I wasn't gonna stay the night."
"No. Because you were leaving, it made it easier for me to tell you," he countered.
Before closing the outside door she replied, "It would've been better if you hadn't told me what you'd done."
He pondered on that remark before dropping off to sleep. Was it the best thing to do? To own up to her?

The next day he wrote a letter to a close friend but instead of sending it, he gave it to her.