THE LAST LETTER

The television flickered softly in the corner of the room.

Emma Parker sat curled up on the expensive cream-colored couch in her apartment, her legs tucked beneath her. The room was dim except for the warm glow of a floor lamp and the blue light from the television screen.

Outside, rain tapped gently against the windows.

The weather had been like this for days.

Gray.

Cold.

Lonely.

Emma wrapped her sweater tighter around herself and stared at the television without really seeing it. Some romantic comedy was playing, but she couldn't focus on the dialogue.

Her mind always wandered to the same place.

Liam.

Six months.

It had been six months since Liam Carter died.

Six months since the police officer stood in this very apartment and delivered the news that had shattered her world.

Six months since she had heard his voice.

Yet somehow every corner of the apartment still carried traces of him.

The coffee mug he once used.

The books he had left behind.

The photographs hanging on the wall.

The memories.

Especially the memories.

Emma reached toward the coffee table and picked up a framed picture.

It had been taken during a summer trip to the coast.

Liam stood beside her with one arm wrapped around her waist.

His smile was bright.

Confident.

Alive.

A lump formed in Emma's throat.

"You idiot," she whispered.

A tear slipped down her cheek.

"You promised you'd never leave me."

The room remained silent.

She laughed bitterly.

Sometimes she still expected him to answer.

Sometimes she still reached for her phone, expecting to see his name appear on the screen.

Sometimes she dreamed he was alive.

Then morning came and reality stole him away all over again.

Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance.

Emma set the photograph down.

The television continued talking to itself.

She leaned back against the couch and closed her eyes.

The loneliness felt endless.

Everyone told her she should move on.

Her friends said she was still young.

Her coworkers said life had to continue.

Even Noah had said it.

Noah.

The thought of his name brought a different feeling.

Comfort.

Safety.

Confusion.

Noah Bennett had been Liam's best friend.

Ever since Liam's death, Noah had been there whenever she needed someone.

When she couldn't sleep.

When she couldn't stop crying.

When she forgot to eat.

When she felt like the world was ending.

Noah always showed up.

Sometimes Emma wondered what she would have done without him.

Then she immediately felt guilty.

Thinking about another man felt like betrayal.

Even if that man was Noah.

Especially if that man was Noah.

A sudden knock interrupted her thoughts.

Emma opened her eyes.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

She frowned.

At nearly ten o'clock at night?

Who could that be?

The rain continued falling outside.

Another knock echoed through the apartment.

Emma stood slowly.

Her bare feet touched the hardwood floor.

She crossed the room and approached the front door.

For a moment she hesitated.

Then she looked through the peephole.

A delivery man stood outside.

He wore a dark raincoat and held a white envelope in one hand.

Emma unlocked the door.

The man smiled politely.

"Emma Parker?"

"Yes?"

"I have a delivery for you."

He extended the envelope.

Emma accepted it.

"Who sent it?"

The delivery man shrugged.

"No name listed."

She frowned.

"That's strange."

The man nodded.

"Have a good evening."

Before she could ask anything else, he turned and disappeared down the hallway.

Emma closed the door.

The apartment suddenly felt quieter than before.

She looked down at the envelope.

Plain white.

No return address.

No company logo.

Nothing unusual.

Until she noticed the handwriting.

Her heart stopped.

The envelope slipped slightly in her fingers.

No.

That couldn't be possible.

She stared at the familiar letters.

Emma Parker.

The handwriting was unmistakable.

She knew every curve.

Every stroke.

Every detail.

Because she had spent years reading birthday cards, notes, and letters written by the same hand.

Liam's hand.

The room seemed to tilt.

Her pulse thundered in her ears.

"No..."

She swallowed hard.

Her fingers trembled.

This had to be some mistake.

Some cruel joke.

Some coincidence.

But deep down she already knew.

It was Liam's handwriting.

The handwriting of a man who had been dead for six months.

Emma slowly sat back down on the couch.

The envelope rested in her lap.

Rain hammered against the windows.

Thunder growled overhead.

Her heart pounded so hard it hurt.

She stared at the envelope for nearly a minute.

Afraid to open it.

Afraid not to.

Finally she slid one trembling finger beneath the seal.

The paper tore open.

Inside was a folded letter.

Emma pulled it out carefully.

Her breath caught.

The first line stared back at her.

If you're reading this, Emma, then I'm already gone.

A sharp gasp escaped her lips.

The paper nearly fell from her hands.

Her entire body froze.

Because there was absolutely no doubt anymore.

This wasn't a prank.

This wasn't a coincidence.

This was Liam.

And somehow...

Somehow a dead man had written her a letter.

Emma turned toward the storm-dark window.

Fear.

Hope.

Confusion.

All collided inside her chest.

Then she looked back down at the letter.

The next sentence waited patiently.

A sentence that would change everything she thought she knew.

Everything about Liam.

Everything about Noah.

And everything about herself.

With trembling hands, Emma began to read….