Letters of love

Previously

…She looked out at the setting sun, painting the sky in hues of amber and rose. The misunderstanding, the seed of doubt, had indeed taken root. But Elias, in his raw, unvarnished honesty, had offered a potent antidote. Now, the choice was hers. To let the whispers and the societal expectations dictate her path, or to follow the stirring of her own heart, a heart that was beginning to whisper Elias Thorne’s name with a newfound, and terrifying, tenderness. The oak by the river. Noon tomorrow. The weight of that simple promise settled upon her, heavy and yet, strangely, exhilarating.