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The Conqueror’s Wife
Category: Historical
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
He had been waiting for her for what felt like an eternity.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The end.