Moonlit Letters

In Lisbon, Clara often sat by her window, writing letters she never sent. She loved the ritual — ink on paper, words flowing under moonlight. One evening, she slipped a letter into a library book she was returning, a secret message to no one in particular.

Weeks later, she borrowed another book and found a reply tucked inside.

“Your words feel like the sea — endless, restless, beautiful. — A.”

Clara’s heart raced. Someone had read her letter. Someone had answered.

She began leaving more letters, hidden in books across the library. Each time, “A” replied. They wrote about dreams, fears, and the beauty of moonlit nights. Clara confessed her loneliness; A confessed his search for meaning.

Though they had never met, their words carried intimacy. Clara felt as though she knew him better than anyone else.

But mystery carried risk. Who was “A”? Could love exist without faces, without voices? Clara worried she was falling for an illusion.

One night, she wrote: “If this is real, meet me under the moonlight at the library steps.”

On the chosen night, Clara waited nervously. The moon glowed above, the city quiet. Then she saw him — a man holding a book, his eyes searching.

“A?” she whispered.

He smiled. “And you must be Clara.”

They walked together through Lisbon’s streets, realizing that words had built a bridge between them. Their letters had been the beginning, but now, under moonlight, they chose to write their story together.

Clara and A’s story reminds us that love can begin with words, even hidden ones. Under moonlight, they discovered that sometimes, the most beautiful stories are written before they’re lived.

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