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Letters to Juliet
Category: Romance
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
The end.