Author's note - Hello once again. I came up with the other letter and this letter was particularly easy for me to pen down for something similar had happened to me.

Reviews make my day.. And as i had already mentioned, I am just a review or a PM away, if you really have any queries.

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With Mrs Stacy's head still reeling at the thought of the astounding discovery that she stumbled upon, she turned over the frail crisp page.

And true, she found her daughter's writing masking the equally disarranged writing of Peter's.

It seemed to her, like she would do fair injustice to the piece of paper if she didn't preserve it.

And now more careful than ever, she placed the piece of paper in between her fingers, carefully and meticulous in every step and the very sight of her daughter's words, which should have seemed so common to her, did not help her in masking her own emotions.

With great difficulty, she controlled her intensive want to bawl all over that letter.

It was like looking at a horror script, like watching a favourite movie in a television with moving and blurry lines.

It was nothing more than torture to her.

With every passing second, the more she saw her fragile hand writing, she began to cry with the force of a person vomiting on all fours. Such was the intensity of her overwhelmed emotions.

Helen Stacy blinked in an attempt to control the flow of her tears that seemed so untamed, wild and recurring. Still she wanted it to come out of her, whereas a part of her wanted to revel within them.

The sadness within her unquenched, although her mind wanted her to be free of this melancholic sorrow, but still she wanted to feel this.

To know the true meaning of despair, leaving reason far behind, beyond the limit of the vestibules of human mind.

That was the way she thought.

But still her unslakeable want to read Gwen's letter made her force out the stinging saline tear drops that hung at the brim of her eyes trying to clear them out, without using her fingers, as her fingers felt the giant weight of her daughter's last words on the paper.

She closed her eyes for a moment, pressed her eyelids as she flushed the accumulated water in between her eyelids and cornea, giving her a perfect view of the impressive cursive writing that followed.

It read –

"Peter,

I really don't know what exactly to tell you but you might find it hard to believe me but I might say, even though I hate it, I must accept that you really have a way with words.

I know that it might seem to you that I have been trying to push you away, you being busy, running off here and there but to tell you the truth; it has truly been hell for me.

What can I say?

I am really too selfish.

I hate to share you with the outside world, and that is the blatant truth.

But still the ring of fire that burns around you and I, I believe that it still keeps our love hotter than a pepper sprout!

Might I tell you now, every single second I spent, it's usually thinking of you. And the more I think of you, the more I miss you.

Now that I write to you, this letter, trying to come up something, the more erratic I feel.

I feel as if we haven't seen each other for ages!

Well truth be told, I really miss you. And now that I think of it, I do realize the way you see yourself.

The world hangs on your shoulders, I know that ... but I miss you by my side more and more until all that want, this craving has finally began to hurt me.

I truly appreciate the way you feel about my being with you.

I write this letter to you in the sleepless nightmare hours of the night.

And even if I told this to you a thousand times, I have never ever felt so incomplete without you.

You are like my fail safe, someone I can slump my shoulders when I need someone to rely on.

You are one of the best persons I have ever some across and more so because I got this awesome chance to date you.

Peter Parker, I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way.

I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal. So this letter is basically just a squeal of pain.

It is incredible how essential to me you have become. I suppose you are accustomed to people saying these things.

Damn you, Parker; I won't make you love me any more by giving myself away like this — But oh my dear, I can't be clever and stand-offish with you: I love you too much for that.

Too truly.

You have no idea how stand-offish I can be with people I don't love.

I have brought it to a fine art. But you have broken down my defences. And I don't really resent it.

Well, a part of my mind truly thanks you for that.

That was what drew first to you ... your uncanny sense of what is good and what is bad.

When you tell me, I am your world, you melt my heart.

When you tell me, you can't live without me, you melt my soul.

I wanted to tell you what you mean to me, but I didn't have any words for it. I love you more than I can say.

I think I could spend a thousand years trying to write down how much you mean to me, and I still wouldn't get close.

I'd still be so far away from everything that you are.

I still remember a time when we were sitting next to each other and I was afraid to look into your eyes for too long, because I'd forget what I was saying and get distracted by how cute and sweet you are. I would lose myself.

God knows what would have happened if you had actually shown at my door step.

Now that I write to you, I remember the first time I met you.

I must say, you were one hell of a geek, well the biggest geek I had ever seen and maybe the only geek I had ever fallen this badly, hiding behind everybody in class, trying desperately not to draw any attention.

But I am just so glad that you took the chance and spoke to me.

I couldn't understand why you were so special to me. But the time we spent together was so enchanting that each moment without you felt like a small forever.

It was so hard to focus on my work, to keep myself from dropping it all and rushing to you, seeing all your nimble flexible fingers at work.

Oh no! I sound too creepy but I want to tell you everything, without holding myself back ever.

Everything that I have ever felt.

Sometimes when I couldn't bear your absence, I would call you up, half-afraid that you would be angry with me for disturbing you.

And there was something else about you: even though you weren't one of those naturally sociable people, you told me everything about yourself: your home, your family, your feelings, your work, your secret that you finally decided to share with me and most importantly be there for me.

My guiding light. My constant source of hope and pride.

I was happy to be your emotional support and you seemed to occupy a unique and special place in my heart.

When I told you of my griefs and sorrows and cried into your chest, it seemed I could finally be safe and secure by being close to you.

And somewhere along the way, I myself opened up without even realizing it, and soon when anything made me happy or sad, I couldn't wait to share it with you. We slowly developed a deep love, and eventually we both knew it.

It was so enchanting, and it completely pulled us in.

I know that I will still feel you even when I will so far away.

Please believe me when I say I love you.

And for that I would wait for you, bug boy.

I would wait out the eternity for you. I would come back for you and you don't have to worry because, I think you stole my heart once again and that only through this damn letter.

If kisses were water, I would give you the sea.

I love you...

Gwen.."

Mrs Stacy's hands quivered as she read her love, the way she professed to Peter, her last words, her final words.

Words that could never ever truly describe how she felt right then.

It was like swimming in a dark pool, an abyss, as it pulled her further down below, into its darkness, into its depth.

Her hands, body and mind had grown so heavy, with so much more grief, that she felt like passing away.

This was her daughter's final letter, her daughter's elegy, the reply to Peter's heartstrings.

The perfect reply that had the power to turn stones into dust and erase the unquenchable thirst of the of mortal man's greediness.

The power that had the strength to conquer them all.

One power that unites and binds all of mankind.

It was love.

Love, the only emotion that could truly define human emotion, the emotion that could define from being humane from the inhumane.

Mrs Stacy clutched the letter with her reddened porcelain hands and pressed it deep to her bosom, like a desperate attempt in being one with the letter, to become one with her beloved daughter.

She looked at it once more, like it was a living thing.

She would hold on to this letter.

The letter that stated how unconditional her love was, how strong and unadulterated her love was, how strong and unceasing it was.

Her final goodbye...

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"Love that never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge it will pass away." – Corinthians 13:4-8

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Well, that is it.

This is how Mrs Helen Stacy finds the last remains of her daughter, the secret that she shared with Peter, how trustworthy, the two were, the secrets that they shared that now Mrs Stacy had become a part of.

I hope you like it...

And don't forget to leave behind reviews and please do rate this story..