Episode 9
1005 Words
THE INK BETWEEN THE LINES
The silence in the bookstore was a rare and sacred thing, broken only by the ticking of the antique wall clock and the occasional rustle of pages being turned. Eloise sat cross-legged on the floor, her laptop balanced precariously on her knees, a half-eaten almond croissant on a napkin beside her. Across from her, Rowan was perched on a wooden stool, elbow-deep in a stack of rare first editions, lips pursed in concentration.
They had slipped into an unspoken rhythm. Morning bickering, late afternoon banter, and long stretches of silence that somehow said more than words could. If the ghost of their past was a presence in the room, they’d both learned how to tiptoe around it—until today.
Eloise’s fingers froze mid-typing when her gaze landed on a faded spine, its leather cover cracked with age. She reached for it instinctively. The book was slim, titled Hearts Unwritten. She smiled, remembering it. A small-press gem Rowan had once bought for her at a campus book fair because the title reminded him of something she’d said during one of their all-night writing sessions.
She flipped the cover open, the familiar scent of old paper blooming in the air. Her breath caught.
An envelope was tucked between the pages, yellowed with time. Her name was written on the front in Rowan’s handwriting.
“Rowan?” Her voice cracked, loud in the stillness.
He looked up, instantly alert. “Yeah?”
She held up the letter like a ghost caught between her fingers. “Did you put this here?”
He stood slowly, eyes narrowing in confusion, then widening in disbelief. “Where did you find that?”
“Between the pages of Hearts Unwritten.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“I—I wrote that,” he said slowly, stepping closer. “A long time ago.”
Eloise stared at him, the weight of the years between them pressing into her chest. “I never saw it.”
His brows furrowed. “I gave it to Sam to deliver. You remember Sam Caldwell?”
“My old roommate?” She blinked, heart racing. “She never mentioned—”
Rowan reached for the letter but paused. “May I?”
She handed it over, fingers brushing. Electricity. Memory. Pain.
He opened it carefully, the paper brittle. His eyes scanned it quickly, then he handed it back.
“Go ahead,” he said, his voice thick.
Eloise unfolded it, hands trembling. The words were short, but each line cut deeper than the last.
Ellie,
I messed up. I don’t know how to explain everything right now, but please don’t think I gave up on you. On us. I had to leave, and it’s not what you think. I swear.
Please wait for me. Please believe in us the way I still do.
—Rowan
Her throat was tight by the time she looked up. “Why didn’t you just call me?”
“I did. I tried. I left messages. When nothing came back—not a call, not a letter—I thought you didn’t want me anymore. And Sam said…” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “She said you were moving on.”
“She lied,” Eloise whispered, the realization breaking over her like a wave. “She told me you left without a word. That you’d fallen for someone else. I cried myself sick for weeks.”
They stood in the ruins of what could’ve been, the truth finally unraveling.
“I came back for graduation,” Rowan said quietly. “I stood behind the library, watching you take pictures in your cap and gown. I was a coward. I didn’t say anything.”
Her heart splintered anew.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she asked, her voice sharp, but broken underneath.
“Because I was scared,” he admitted. “And because I thought you were happier without me. I saw the book deals, the glamorous life… I didn’t want to mess that up.”
Eloise sat down heavily in the armchair nearest her, the letter fluttering to the ground.
“I wasn’t happy,” she said. “I wrote those books because I couldn’t live them. Every happy ending I gave my characters was the one I never got with you.”
Silence pulsed between them.
“Ellie…” His voice was raw.
She looked up, blinking back tears. “I don’t know what this means now. Or what we’re supposed to do with it.”
He took a slow step toward her. “I know what I want to do.”
He knelt in front of her, not touching, just close enough that she could feel the heat of his presence.
“I want to start over. No secrets. No more ghosts. Just us.”
She reached out, brushing his cheek with trembling fingers. “That’s not something you get to say after ten years of silence.”
He leaned in. “Then let me show you. Every day. Every minute I missed, I want to earn back.”
Eloise didn’t move, didn’t breathe. The part of her that had waited for this—for him—was warring with the part of her that had built walls just to survive.
“I can’t promise anything,” she said at last.
“Then don’t,” he murmured. “Let me be the one to promise.”
Their lips met, tentative at first, then deepening, breaking the dam of emotion that had long held them back. It was messy and fierce and tasted like sorrow and hope.
When they finally broke apart, breathless, Eloise leaned her forehead against his.
“We still have a lot to untangle.”
“I brought scissors,” Rowan said, smiling faintly.
She laughed—truly laughed—and in that moment, something shifted.
They had a letter. They had the truth. And maybe, just maybe, they had a beginning.
- Writer
