It started with a squeaky floorboard.
I was cleaning the bedroom when I stepped on a loose plank near the closet.
It groaned under my weight, and curiosity got the best of me. I knelt down, pried it up, and found a small wooden box hidden beneath.
I hesitated. My husband, Evander, had never mentioned hiding anything.
I lifted the lid.
Inside were neatly folded letters, their edges yellowed with time.
My pulse quickened as I picked one up, the scent of faded perfume lingering on the paper.
The handwriting was elegant, the ink slightly smudged.
“My dearest Evander,” it began.
I read on, my hands shaking. The words were intimate, filled with longing and devotion.
But it wasn’t just the passion in the letters that made my stomach twist.
It was the name at the bottom.
Calista.
My breath hitched.
Calista wasn’t just anyone.
She was Evander’s ex-fiancée. The woman who had died in a tragic accident years before we met.
Or at least, that’s what he had told me.
That night, I sat at the dining table, the box of letters in front of me.
When Evander walked in, he froze. His eyes darted to the open box, his face instantly pale.
“Where did you find those?” His voice was barely above a whisper.
“They were hidden under the floorboards.” I crossed my arms. “Why would you keep these?”
He swallowed hard, glancing at the letters as if they might vanish. “They’re just old memories.”
I shook my head. “No, Evander. You told me Calista died.
But these letters… they don’t sound like they’re from someone who was dying.” I slid one toward him.
“This one was dated two years ago. Long after she was supposed to be gone.”
His jaw clenched.
“Tell me the truth,” I demanded.
Silence. Then, he exhaled shakily and sank into the chair across from me.
“She’s not dead.”
The words sent a chill through me. “What?”
“I had to tell people she was,” he murmured, rubbing his temples. “She disappeared.
I didn’t know where she was, but I couldn’t keep answering questions. People wouldn’t understand.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “Understand what?”
He hesitated. “Calista didn’t leave on her own.” His fingers drummed anxiously against the table.
“She… vanished.”
A sick feeling settled in my stomach. “Vanished?”
He nodded. “One night, she told me she had uncovered something dangerous.
She wouldn’t tell me what, only that she was scared. The next morning, she was gone.”
He gestured toward the letters. “Then, months later, I started getting these.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” My voice wavered.
He looked away. “Because if I admitted she was alive, I’d have to admit that she might still be in danger.”
I stared at him, my mind racing. “You think she’s in hiding?”
His grip tightened on the table. “Or worse.”
A chill crawled up my spine. “Then we need to find her.”
Evander met my eyes, fear flickering in his. “Are you sure you want to?”
I didn’t know the answer.
But I knew one thing—Calista wasn’t just his past.
She was now a part of our story, whether I liked it or not.
