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Letters to Juliet
Category: Romance
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
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 end.