Amber Chase stared at the blinking cursor on her screen as if it were a taunt. Write, it seemed to whisper. Once the tool for her to weave passionate tales of love and heartache, her laptop now displayed only a barren field of white.

You've done this a thousand times before.

But no matter how long she sat there, the words refused to come.

The falling rain hitting her apartment window echoed her inner mind--repetitive, monotone. It seemed like each drop reminded her that even the most celebrated romance writer could find herself locked in a creative and emotional drought.

She sighed, rubbing her temples. "Come on, Amber. You write stories all the time. You should be able to do this in your sleep."

But it was different now. After that night, after him, after the way everything shattered--it hadn't been the same.

Just as she leaned back in her chair, contemplating whether a third cup of coffee might help or if she should just set the entire manuscript on fire, a soft knock echoed through her apartment.

At this hour?

She hesitated before getting up, her bare feet padding across the tiled floor. When she opened the door, there was no one there--only a single envelope resting on the blue welcome mat.

Amber's breath caught. The paper was thick, expensive. Her name was written in elegant, looping script.

A letter?

Her pulse quickened as she bent down to pick it up. Stepping back inside, she locked the door behind her as she traced the edges of the envelope while moving toward the couch.

Who would send me something like this?

She exhaled, shaking her head. "Don't be ridiculous, Amber. It's probably a mistake. Or some overenthusiastic fan who found my address."

And yet, there was something undeniably intimate about the way her name had been written. As if the sender had taken their time, as if each stroke of the pen carried meaning.

Her hand trembled slightly as she broke the beige seal and unfolded the note. The handwriting was just as beautiful inside. She read the first line aloud, the words slipping from her lips in a breathless whisper:

"I have loved you in silence, in shadows, and in stolen glances across a scene. I have loved you through years and distance, through moments lost and memories unforgotten."

Amber's heart lurched.

"Who..." She swallowed hard, scanning the rest of the letter, but there was no signature, no clue as to who had written it. Just words that felt personal. Too personal.

She clutched the letter to her chest, a strange, forgotten warmth unfurling in her stomach. It had been so long since anything had made her feel something.

She shook her head, scoffing at herself. "Don't be stupid, Amber. It's just a letter. It doesn't mean anything."

☆🌙☆🌙☆🌙☆

Later that afternoon, Amber nestled herself into the corner of a cozy little café, absently tracing the rim of her coffee cup. Across from her, Sophie slid into the seat with ease, her brown eyes immediately catching the small stack of letters Amber clutched tightly in her hands.

Sophie frowned. "Amber, how many letters is this now?"

Amber exhaled, her grip tightening around the papers. "This is the second one today," she replied. "Each one feels like it's reaching something deep inside me."

Sophie's expression darkened with concern. "Your heart?" she asked, her tone sceptical. "Amber, you just came from a break up. Do you have any idea who keeps on sending you those suspicious love letters?"

Amber's gaze drifted to the window, the cityscape blurred by streaks of rain. Memories stirred, unbidden. "I know. But these letters... they're different. They aren't just empty words on paper. They know me. They understand things I've long locked away." Her voice dipped into a whisper. "Every time I read them, I feel that spark again. The one I used to write about."

Sophie leaned forward, brows knitting together. "Are you sure this isn't just your mind playing tricks? Maybe you miss what you had with Nathan, and these letters are making it worse."

A bitter smile touched Amber's lips. "Maybe. But it's not that simple. There's a mystery here, Sophie. When I read the words, I almost hear his voice. But it's not the same as before. Like he's reaching for something-begging for something." She let out a quiet breath. "And I don't know if I want to listen."

"Amber, listen to me." She reached across the table, squeezing her hand. "I know how much you loved him. I know how much he hurt you. And I know how hard it is to feel... numb. But just because something stirs an old feeling doesn't mean it's good for you."

Amber's stomach twisted. Is this really him? Is this a desperate longing for something that had long since burned to ash? Or is this just a new admirer begging for my heart to open up again?

Sophie sighed, watching her closely. "I don't like this. You're already spiraling, and we both know what happens when you get too lost in your head."

"I don't have all the answers yet," she admitted. "But these letters... they're like a puzzle. And maybe, just maybe, solving it will finally show me what I truly want."

Sophie studied her for a long moment before shaking her head with a small, exasperated smile. "Then we're doing this together. But on one condition."

Amber raised a brow. "Which is?"

Sophie stood, grabbing her bag. "You need a break from all this overthinking. We're going to the mall. Right now."

Amber blinked. "What?"

Sophie smirked, already pulling her toward the door. "Come on, Ms. Chase. You need therapy from this therapist. Maybe a new book, maybe some chocolate cake. And if I have to drag you kicking and screaming, I will."

Despite herself, Amber let out a soft laugh. The pain and confusion inside her chest didn't disappear, but for the first time in a long while, it felt a little lighter.

Maybe she didn't have all the answers yet. Maybe she was still tangled in uncertainty.

But for now, she let Sophie pull her into the bright, bustling world outside--away from the letters, away from the past--if only for a little while.

☆🌙☆🌙☆🌙☆

The rain pounded against the building's windows as Amber stepped into the elevator, her thoughts tangled in the day's events. Sophie had been pulled away by work, leaving Amber to navigate the storm in her mind alone. She pressed the button for the lobby and exhaled slowly, bracing herself for the quiet solitude.

Then-

The lights flickered.

A sharp jolt rocked the elevator, yanking her from her thoughts. The overhead bulbs sputtered before plunging into darkness.

Her pulse spiked.

No. No, no, no.

A low hum vibrated through the metal walls, followed by the eerie flicker of emergency lights. A dim red glow bathed the confined space, casting elongated shadows. The air felt heavier, the walls closer.

Amber's fingers flew to the control panel, trembling as she pressed button after button. Nothing.

Her breath hitched.

She slammed her palm against the emergency button. No response.

The panic clawed at her chest, constricting, suffocating.

Her breaths turned shallow.

She pounded on the doors, voice rising in desperation. "Help! Someone! The elevator's stuck!"

Silence.

The only sounds were the distant rumble of thunder and the rhythmic pounding of rain against the windows far above.

Her heart slammed against her ribs as she stumbled back, pressing against the cold metal wall. Her vision blurred at the edges, fear curling through her veins like ice.

Breathe, Amber.

Then-

A sound. A shift in the shadows.

She wasn't alone.

A voice, deep and achingly familiar, cut through the silence.

"Amber?"

Her body locked up.

No. It couldn't be.

Slowly, she turned.

And there, bathed in the dim crimson glow, stood Nathan Cameron.

The man who had once held her heart in the palm of his hands--before crushing it.

For a long, agonizing moment, neither of them spoke. The storm outside raged, a relentless echo of her spiraling thoughts.

Amber's breath came shallow, uneven. What is he doing here?

Nathan's ocean-blue eyes locked onto hers. There was a storm in them--one she had once drowned in, one that had once made her feel invincible. Now, it only made her feel exposed.

"Amber," he murmured, almost in disbelief. "I can't believe this. After all these years--I never thought I'd see you again."

His voice-- Gosh, that voice. It sent a shiver down her spine.

She tore her gaze away, jaw tightening. "Years?" she echoed. "Nathan, what are you even doing here?"

You broke me. You chose her.

Nathan stepped forward, an instinctive movement--but she flattened herself against the elevator wall, her arms crossing over her chest like a shield. His expression flickered with something like regret.

"I've been searching for you," he admitted. "Trying to explain. I never got the chance."

Amber let out a hollow laugh. "You had your chance the night I walked away. You didn't take it."

Nathan ran a hand through his damp hair, frustration darkening his features. "Amber, please. That night--I was drunk. I didn't--"

"Don't." Her voice was dangerously quiet. "Don't insult me with excuses."

"It's not an excuse," he said, desperate. "I tried calling, but you blocked me. I searched for you, but you disappeared. I was losing my mind, Amber."

She let out a cold laugh. "Losing your mind? That's rich. You weren't the one who walked into a room and found your boyfriend being kissed by another woman. You weren't the one who had to hear her call you her fiancé."

Nathan flinched like she had struck him.

"You think I let that happen?" His voice was hoarse. "You think I wanted that?"

She folded her arms tighter around herself. "I think you didn't stop it."

Nathan exhaled sharply, his gaze pleading. "She wasn't my fiancée, Amber. She was my ex. She tricked me. She got hired at the company, drugged my drink, and stole the ring I--" His voice broke off. His fists clenched at his sides.

Amber's stomach twisted. "What?"

Nathan swallowed hard, his eyes searching hers. "That was your ring, Amber. I was going to propose that night."

The words slammed into her like a freight train.

No.

No, this couldn't be real.

"She took everything from me before I even knew what was happening," Nathan continued. "I tried to fix it. I tried to tell you. But by the time I could--"

"I was already gone," she whispered.

Nathan nodded, his jaw clenching. "I don't expect you to believe me. I don't expect forgiveness. But I need you to know--I never stopped loving you, Amber. That's why when I finally heard about your new address from one of your fans, I immediately grabbed that opportunity to send you letters even though I'm not sure if you really live there."

Amber's heart pounded. Is he telling the truth?

She wanted to believe him. Wanted to let herself drown in the warmth of his voice, to believe that this--they--had been stolen from them, not broken by his betrayal.

But she had spent too many nights piecing herself back together to fall apart again now.

A soft beep shattered the moment. The elevator hummed as power surged back to life.

The doors slid open, flooding the small space with bright, sterile light.

Amber took a trembling breath, her chest tight, her mind a chaotic mess of memories and unanswered questions. Nathan held her gaze, waiting. Hoping.

But she couldn't do this.

Not now.

I can't. I cannot break myself apart again.

Without a word, she stepped out, leaving the past--and Nathan--behind.

☆🌙☆🌙☆🌙☆

The rain had stopped by morning, leaving the city washed clean. Yet, despite the clear sky, Amber still felt like she was drowning.

She hadn't slept.

Not really.

How could she, when Nathan's words played on repeat in her mind? That was your ring, Amber. I was going to propose that night.

It was easier to dismiss him when she had been trapped in the dim, suffocating space of the elevator. But now, in the light of day, doubt crept in.

Had I been wrong?

She shook the thought away as she stepped into a bookstore café. She had spent years coming here, sinking into the scent of old pages and freshly brewed coffee, letting the quiet comfort her.

Today should have been no different.

But it was.

Because when she looked up, she saw him.

Nathan?

Sitting by the window, he seemed lost in thought. His navy-blue sweater clung to his frame, and his dark hair was still slightly damp, as if he had just come in from the cold.

Amber's breath hitched, but she schooled her features into careful indifference.

He won't even notice me.

Then he looked up.

Their eyes locked.

Time stilled.

A moment stretched between them.

Nathan slowly set his cup down, his gaze never leaving hers.

"Amber."

She hesitated. "Nathan."

Her heart hammered as she turned to the counter, placing an order, pretending this wasn't unraveling her. But his presence pressed against her, refusing to be ignored.

When she finally sat at a table--not too close, but not too far--he made the first move.

He stood, hesitated, then took the seat at the table beside hers. Close enough that she could hear the way he exhaled before speaking.

"I wasn't sure if I'd see you again," he admitted.

Amber let out a quiet laugh, but there was no humour in it. "Neither did I."

Nathan's lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "And yet, here we are."

She met his gaze, wary yet unable to look away. "Why are we meeting again? Why here?"

He glanced around, his eyes softening as they swept over the wooden bookshelves. "Maybe because this place always brought us back together," he murmured. "Even when we didn't realize it."

Amber's fingers curled around her cup. "Or maybe it's just coincidence."

Nathan leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to something almost intimate. "Do you believe that?"

She hesitated.

Do I?

Because sitting here, across from him, in a place that had unknowingly been woven into the fabric of their past--she wasn't sure anymore.

"Amber," he said, his voice softer now. "I meant what I said last night."

Her throat tightened. "Nathan, I--"

"I know." He held up a hand. "I know I hurt you. I know trust isn't something you can rebuild overnight. But if there's even the smallest chance that you'll let me try..."

Amber stared at him, her pulse a frantic rhythm in her ears. She thought of all the nights she had spent trying to erase him from her heart. The pain, the unanswered questions, the way she had convinced herself that closure didn't matter.

But what if it did?

What if closure wasn't the end, but the beginning of something else?

Finally, she exhaled, the tightness in her chest easing just a little. "Alright," she whispered, her lips barely curving into the smallest of smiles. "Let's start with a cup of coffee."

Nathan's expression softened into something almost reverent, as if he had just been given something precious. "That's all I ask."

And in the quiet café, with the scent of coffee and old books wrapped around them, a story that once seemed finished found itself with an unwritten page.

The story goes on, but how will it end?