Lena was sorting through secondhand books at a tiny street market when one fell open in her hands. Tucked between the pages was an old letter, yellowed with time, written in elegant handwriting.

It wasn’t signed, only addressed: “To the one who needs to believe in love again.”

The words were tender, describing sunsets, laughter, and promises of a love that never fades, no matter how many storms come. She read it twice, then three times, her heart oddly light—as if the letter had been waiting for her.

That evening, walking home, Lena noticed a man struggling to pick up his books spilled on the sidewalk. She helped, and as he smiled in thanks, she caught a glimpse of the same handwriting in the notebook he carried

Somehow, she knew the letter’s story wasn’t finished.