wrong recipient
it all started with a simple mistake.
a letter meant for ackerly todd, a rather dull and unremarkable classmate, had somehow ended up in elphaba’s possession. she only realized the mix-up when she was halfway through reading it, eyes scanning the loopy, elegant handwriting that could only belong to someone who had never known a day of hardship.
"dear ackerly," it began, "i hope you don’t mind me writing to you. it’s quite silly, really, but i heard you were struggling in magical theory, and i thought perhaps a study partner might help. if nothing else, i do adore a bit of correspondence!"
elphaba had scoffed at that. correspondence? who in their right mind sent letters within the same school? she was about to discard it when her eyes caught the signature at the bottom.
"sincerely, galinda upland."
of course it was galinda. only she would turn something as mundane as studying into an opportunity for flirtation.
elphaba had every intention of ignoring it, of slipping it onto todd’s desk and forgetting the whole thing. but something about the letter, it was so unabashedly cheerful, so oblivious to the fact that she had the wrong recipient, it made her pause.
so, against her better judgment, she wrote back.
"galinda, your letter has not reached its intended audience. however, if you are truly desperate for someone to write to, i suppose i can humor you. but be warned, i am neither struggling in magical theory nor in need of a study partner. if that disqualifies me from this peculiar arrangement, i will not be offended."
she kept it short, direct. surely, that would be the end of it.
except it wasn’t.
two days later, another letter appeared inside her books.
"mysterious not-ackerly," it read, "how intriguing! i must admit, i rather like the idea of an anonymous correspondent. you seem delightfully grumpy, which is very entertaining. shall we continue? humor me a little longer?"
elphaba could have ignored it. should have. but the next thing she knew, she was penning a response.
and just like that, the letters kept coming.
what started as a single misdirected message turned into an ongoing exchange. they wrote about the tedious lessons, monotone professors, the unbearable food in the dining hall, but also the unexpected. elphaba found herself confessing her irritation with the way people at shiz treated her, while galinda spoke of the pressures of expectation, of always having to be perfect.
elphaba was careful, of course. she never revealed her identity. it was safer that way. galinda might have been kinder than most, but she was still the leader of the crowd that whispered about her behind her back.
but the more they wrote, the more elphaba realized something unforseen.
she was enjoying this.
she looked forward to galinda’s letters, to the way her words practically twirled off the page with energy. she could almost hear her voice, rhythmic and playful, teasing but never cruel.
and even worse; she was starting to care.
it was foolish. it was reckless. but it was also the first time in a long time that elphaba felt like someone saw her, even if they didn’t truly know who she was.
so she kept writing.
one day, galinda sent a letter with a particularly ridiculous question: "what is your favorite flower? and don’t say something predictable like ‘i don’t have one.’ humor me."
elphaba found herself staring at the page for longer than she should have. she didn’t know. she had never really thought about it. finally, she settled on an answer.
"i suppose, if i had to choose, it would be night blooming cereus. it only opens at night, and only for a brief time before it withers away. it thrives in the dark. i find that rather poetic."
when galinda’s response arrived, it was filled with exaggerated dramatics. "oh, how utterly fitting! of course you’d choose something brooding and mysterious. why am i not surprised? personally, i love peonies. they are soft, lovely, and demand attention. the absolute opposite of your shadowy flower."
elphaba found herself smiling at that. she wouldn’t admit it, but she found galinda’s enthusiasm endearing. she could almost see her, pen poised over the page, practically bouncing with excitement as she wrote.
weeks passed, and their letters grew longer. they shared secrets, jokes, frustrations. galinda wrote about her latest fashion disasters and the infuriating way pfannee and shenshen always assumed she had nothing in her head. elphaba wrote about her sister, about the way she longed for something more, though she wasn’t sure what that was.
it was dangerous, this thing they were doing. but elphaba didn’t want to stop.
then, one day, galinda’s letter ended with something different.
"sometimes i wonder who you really are. i have a few guesses, but i won’t ask. not yet. i rather like the mystery. but tell me one thing; do you ever wonder about me, too?"
elphaba hesitated before writing her response.
"yes. more than i should."
she almost didn’t send it. but she did.
as the days passed, elphaba found herself analyzing every word galinda wrote, rereading old letters late into the night. what had started as a casual amusement had become something that tugged at her, made her anticipate the next delivery like a secret she was aching to uncover. and yet, she told herself, this couldn’t mean anything. it was just a game to galinda. wasn’t it?
then, one afternoon, elphaba received a letter that made her pulse quicken.
"i had the oddest dream about you last night," galinda wrote. "or, well, not you, exactly, because i don’t know who you are. but i think it was you. you were standing in the courtyard in the moonlight, and i was talking to you, but i couldn’t see your face. it was frustrating. i wanted to see you."
elphaba clenched the letter in her hands. her first instinct was to brush it off. dreams were meaningless. weren’t they? but something about the way galinda described it made her stomach twist.
"dreams are strange things," elphaba finally wrote in reply. "sometimes, i think they know more than we do."
when galinda’s next letter arrived, it was accompanied by something unexpected. a pressed peony, delicate and pink, tucked between the pages.
elphaba traced the edges of the flower, feeling her carefully constructed walls shift, just a little.
"i think i want to meet you," galinda wrote. "no more mystery. no more hiding behind letters. what do you say? shall we make this real?"
elphaba stared at the words, her heart hammering against her ribs.
she had no idea how to respond.