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The Last Crusade
Category: Historical
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
The end.