Ada Monroe pushed her bedroom window open, feeling the cold winter air go straight through her thin nightgown. She stuck her hand out to lightly touch the falling snow, and then brought her shawl closer around her. Oh how she missed Inman. Where was he? And why wasn't he returning her letters? For all she knew, he could be dead by now, but she could not bear to think that. Even though she barely knew him, she felt love for him somehow. And so she continued to write to him, knowing that he wouldn't respond. Yet she still held hope that someday he would. And for that, she would wait. Even if years went by, she would still wait for him. Day after day. Hoping that one day, she would meet him again. And with that thought in mind, she slowly closed the window and went to write another letter.