The lighthouse creaked like it was breathing.
Cassie knelt on the floorboards, her fingers raw from hours of scrubbing salt and dust. She was about to call it a day when her brush snagged against a hairline crack in the wall near the base of the stairs.
Her pulse quickened.
Not again.
She pressed carefully, and sure enough, the panel shifted with a faint groan. Behind it, folded and yellowed, was another letter.
Her hands shook as she pulled it free. The envelope was brittle, her name written across it in a script so tender it made her chest ache.
Cassie.
Her throat tightened. She unfolded it slowly.
My Cassie,
If you are reading this, then perhaps time has been kind enough to let you find me again. I watch the sea and imagine your face in every horizon. Do you hear me when the waves crash? Do you know my promise still holds?
Yours, always,6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJM85pAAiMr
M.
Cassie sat back hard, her breath catching.
It wasn't just longing this time — it was love carved into ink. A devotion that felt too alive to belong to someone long gone.
"Who are you?" she whispered to the empty room.
The walls gave no answer, only the restless sigh of the wind.
At the library later that morning, Peggie Parreño leaned over the letter with a furrowed brow.
"This handwriting," Peggie murmured, tapping the page. "It's elegant. Old-fashioned, but not ancient. My guess? Mid-twentieth century."
Cassie leaned forward. "And the 'M.' Any guesses who that could be?"
Peggie's lips pursed. "Plenty of families with names starting in M. Pizarras, of course. Pastor. Mendez, Manzano... It could be anyone."
"That's not comforting," Cassie muttered.
Peggie chuckled softly. "History rarely is. But..." She tapped Cassie's name again. "What unsettles me most is that it's written to you. Your exact name."
Cassie hesitated. "Do you think it's just coincidence?"
Peggie's eyes softened. "Maybe. But sometimes... names repeat for reasons. Bloodlines. Promises carried forward."
Cassie shivered.
Later that afternoon, Cassie spotted JM in the square, leaning casually against a lamppost as though he had nowhere in particular to be. She almost walked past him. Almost.
Instead, she stopped. "Do you always lurk around like some noir detective?"
His mouth quirked. "Do you always accuse people of lurking when they're simply standing?"
"You were watching me," she said flatly.
"Maybe," he admitted, unbothered. "Did you find what you were looking for in the archives?"
Cassie hesitated. She wasn't about to wave the letter in his face. Not yet. "Bits and pieces."
"Bits and pieces are where most truths begin."
She crossed her arms. "You really should quit with the riddles. Just once, try saying something directly."
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. "Direct, then. Some families in this town don't want certain histories stirred. You might find answers, Cassie, but you might not like them."
The way he said her name again sent a shiver down her spine.
She forced a smirk. "That sounded almost like concern."
"Maybe it is," he said softly.
Her heart stuttered.
But before she could respond, he pushed off the lamppost, brushing past her with the faintest smile. "See you around, Cassie."
She stood frozen, her pulse thrumming, the mystery of the lighthouse now tangled with the mystery of him.
That night, back in the lighthouse, Cassie lit a lantern and read the letter again.
Do you hear me when the waves crash? Do you know my promise still holds?
Her hand lingered over the ink, her heart aching with a longing she couldn't name.
She closed her eyes, and for a moment, it felt as if someone was standing just behind her, whispering the words aloud.
She turned quickly, but of course, the room was empty.
Only the sea answered, whispering against the cliffs like a promise carried on the wind.
📖 End of Chapter Four
6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡejpHOBGQdx
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