The wind was restless that evening, tugging at the shutters of the lighthouse as though it too was impatient for answers. Cassie sat cross-legged on the floor, a lantern flickering beside her. She had spent the better part of the afternoon clearing a small corner into something resembling livable space, though most of the tower was still cloaked in dust and shadows.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she unfolded the newest letter. She had found it tucked behind a broken floorboard in the keeper's quarters, wrapped carefully as though the writer had known it would one day be found.
The paper was fragile, the ink faded but still legible. She began to read aloud, her voice echoing softly in the empty room.
My dearest Cassie,
I fear time is no longer my ally. Each day without you feels like a storm weathered in silence, a gale I cannot outlast. I promised you once that I would wait, that my devotion would not waver. But promises are cruel when they are not enough to bridge the distance.
I walk this lighthouse like a ghost. I light the lantern, I tend the flame, and yet it is your absence that burns me more than the oil ever could. I do not know if you still think of me, if you still carry my name in your heart as I carry yours in mine. But know this: I have loved you with a love that endures even in silence, even in the ache of unfulfilled vows.
If I leave this world before you return, let the sea bear witness to my keeping of the promise. For I have been yours, and only yours, always.
Cassie's throat tightened. The words pierced her chest with a kind of tenderness she hadn't expected. This wasn't just a letter. It was a confession of devotion, an ache laid bare across time.
Her eyes blurred as she whispered, "Who were you writing to? Who were you waiting for?"
A voice at the doorway startled her. "You read them aloud."
Cassie gasped, turning. JM stood in the shadows of the stairwell, his frame half-lit by the lantern glow. He looked as though he had been standing there for some time, listening.
Heat rose to her cheeks. "You shouldn't sneak up on people like that."
"You shouldn't leave the door unlocked," he countered, though his tone was more gentle than stern.
Cassie folded the letter carefully, tucking it back into its wrapping. "I didn't expect company."
JM stepped further inside, his gaze lingering on the lantern, the bundle of letters she had collected so far. "You've found another one."
"Yes." Her voice softened. "This one... this one feels different. More... final, somehow."
He didn't speak for a moment, just studied her expression. Finally, he asked, "What did it say?"
Cassie hesitated, then sighed. "It spoke of promises unfulfilled. Of waiting... and not knowing if the love was returned. It's—" She broke off, pressing her lips together. "It's heartbreakingly beautiful."
JM's eyes flickered, his jaw tightening. "And you feel... what? That it's written to you?"
"I don't know what to feel." She rose to her feet, brushing dust from her jeans. "But every word... it feels like it's reaching across time. Like it knows me."
"That's dangerous," JM said quietly.
Cassie frowned. "What do you mean?"
"To let yourself get entangled in words left behind. They can trap you. Anchor you to ghosts instead of the living."
"Are you speaking from experience?" she asked softly.
His eyes met hers then—dark, steady, unflinching. "Maybe."
For a moment, the air between them was charged, taut like a wire stretched too tight. Cassie swallowed, feeling the heat in her chest. She wanted to push him, to demand what he meant, but instead, she let the silence speak.
Finally, she murmured, "Maybe it's not so dangerous to feel something for words. Maybe it's more dangerous not to."
JM looked away first, his gaze drifting to the window where the waves crashed against the rocks below. "You don't know what you're inviting."
Cassie folded her arms, her heart racing. "Maybe you do."
The next day, she met Peggie Parreño at the library. The small building smelled of old paper and salt-damp wood. Peggie was at her desk, adjusting her glasses as Cassie approached with the newest letter.
"You've found another?" Peggie asked, her eyes lighting up with a mix of excitement and wariness.
Cassie nodded, handing it over carefully. "This one feels... heavier. Like a farewell."
Peggie read it silently, her brow furrowing. After a long pause, she looked up. "This is no ordinary correspondence. Whoever wrote this wasn't just passing the time. These letters—" She tapped the page lightly. "—they carry a depth most people never manage even face-to-face."
Cassie exhaled. "And yet they were never delivered. Or maybe never answered."
"Or maybe they were," Peggie said thoughtfully, "but not in the way we think."
Cassie tilted her head. "What do you mean?"
Peggie adjusted her glasses again. "There are stories in this town. Whispers about the lighthouse keeper who lost someone he loved. About a promise that chained him here. But stories twist, Cassie. They shift with every telling. The truth... the truth might be buried deeper than we know."
Cassie bit her lip. "And JM—he knows more, doesn't he?"
Peggie gave her a careful look. "JM Pastor knows this town's history better than anyone. But he also knows what silence is worth. If he's not telling you something, it's because he believes the past isn't ready to be uncovered."
Cassie frowned. "Or because he's hiding something."
Peggie didn't answer. Instead, she folded the letter again, sliding it back to Cassie. "Be careful with your heart, dear. These words are powerful. And sometimes, the dead hold more sway than the living."
That evening, back at the lighthouse, Cassie found herself pacing. The waves crashed against the rocks with restless fury, and the lantern light swayed across the room. She couldn't shake the words of the letter, nor JM's warning.
When a knock echoed on the heavy wooden door, she almost didn't answer. But then she did—and found JM standing there, damp from the mist, eyes shadowed.
"Couldn't stay away?" she teased, though her voice came out softer than she intended.
He stepped inside, brushing water from his hair. "You looked like you needed company."
"Do I?"
"Maybe."
They stood in silence for a moment before Cassie blurted, "Why do you care?"
JM's brow furrowed. "What kind of question is that?"
"The kind I need answered. You keep warning me off, but you're always here. You tell me not to get lost in the letters, but you know more about them than you say. Why?"
For a moment, she thought he wouldn't answer. But then, his voice low: "Because I've seen what obsession with the past can do. It takes people. It consumes them. And I don't want that for you."
Her breath caught. "And what if it's already consuming me?"
His eyes locked on hers then, raw and unguarded. "Then I'll do what I can to pull you back."
Something in her chest cracked open. She stepped closer, the air between them humming. "You sound like you've done this before. Like you've lost someone to it."
He didn't move back. "Maybe I have."
For a heartbeat, it felt like the whole world stilled—the waves, the wind, the very walls of the lighthouse. Cassie's hand brushed against his, unthinking, instinctual. His fingers twitched but didn't pull away.
And then, just as quickly, he stepped back, breaking the spell. "Be careful, Cassie. Some promises don't just bind the dead. They bind the living, too."
With that, he turned and left, the door closing behind him with a quiet finality.
Cassie stood in the lantern light, her heart pounding, the letter heavy in her hand. She realized then that the more she uncovered, the more entangled she became—not just with the ghost of a love that had once been, but with the man who haunted her present.
And she wasn't sure which one was more dangerous.
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