After October 2013, there was a long period of silence, a quiet that was more unsettling than accusations and resentment. In January 2014, a new letter finally arrived.
"2014.1.18: I'm sorry, I was sick when I wrote the previous letters. I can't even remember what I was thinking then. Thankfully, none of those letters were sent. But even with this letter, I don't know when I'll send it to you.
I feel much better now. I've stopped arguing with the doctor about whether your story is a figment of my imagination. I admitted to her that it was my imagination, but I know myself that it isn't. Even if it's wrong, I choose to believe it.