The Letters I Wrote
1404 Words
Elijah didn't argue with Noah.
Didn't interrupt Clara.
He just watched her.
The way her fingers lingered on the ledger.
The way her eyes lit up.
The way she leaned toward something that wasn't him.
Something tightened in his chest.
Not anger.
Not yet.
Something quieter.
Then he moved.
"Clara."
She didn't look up right away.
"Mm?"
Still reading. Still thinking.
"My wife."
Not loud.
But enough.
She blinked up at him, a little dazed.
"Oh, sorry, this is just, "
"I know what it is," Elijah said.
Then he turned, crossed the room, and took a small wooden box from the shelf.
Clara frowned. "What is that?"
He didn't answer.
He set it down in front of her carefully.
Like it mattered.
Like it weighed more than the ledger in her hands.
Noah went still.
Completely.
Clara noticed that.
And her stomach dropped.
Elijah opened the lid.
Letters.
Dozens of them.
Worn soft at the edges. Folded and refolded.
Her breath caught.
"Elijah..."
His voice softened just slightly.
"You wrote to me."
Clara shook her head immediately.
"I didn't, "
"You did."
No hesitation.
No doubt.
He picked one up and placed it in front of her.
"You answered my ad."
That landed differently.
Clara stared at the paper.
Then slowly reached for it.
Her fingers brushed the page.
And something about it felt wrong.
Familiar in the worst way.
Like seeing your own handwriting in a notebook you don't remember filling.
She unfolded it.
Her eyes moved across the first line,
,and stopped.
My dear Elijah,
This may be the craziest thing I have ever done.
My answer is yes.
Have a preacher ready at the train, and I will be yours.
Clara's breath caught.
Because of that,
That was her handwriting.
Not similar.
Not close.
Hers.
But it didn't sound like her.
She didn't do crazy.
Her eyes moved faster.
Also, please don't listen to me when I say I don't remember things.
I play dumb when I am scared.
Trust, I love you, and be patient.
Her fingers trembled.
Noah didn't move.
Elijah didn't speak.
They both just watched her.
Her own handwriting was calling her out.
Claiming this was fear.
Not true.
Clara wanted to shake that version of herself.
Demand an explanation, she clearly wasn't going to get.
They were never going to believe her now.
She flipped to another letter.
Then another.
Each one goes farther back.
Each one is a love letter to Elijah.
A man she barely knew.
A man she shouldn't know.
A man she had chosen anyway.
Her vision blurred.
Jealousy hit sharp and sudden.
Which made no sense.
Because she was reading her own words.
But the woman in those letters...
That woman had the kind of love Clara used to dream about.
Before life got practical.
Before she learned to want less.
Her breath faltered as something broke loose in her chest.
Elijah's voice came softer.
"Read the first one."
Clara hesitated.
Then took the one he offered.
More worn than the others.
She unfolded it slowly.
Dear Mr. Walker,
I read your advertisement and wondered if you believe in fate.
I am tired of doing everything right and still feeling like I missed something important.
You feel like that missing piece.
If this is a mistake, then it's one I am willing to make.
If you're willing.
Clara's hands shook.
Because she understood that girl.
Even if she didn't remember being her.
"That's not..." she whispered.
"I wouldn't just, "
"You would," Elijah said gently, cupping her face.
Like he never doubted it.
Like he never doubted her.
"You are brave enough."
Silence settled.
Clara stared at the letters.
At her own words.
At a version of herself who chose something without proof.
Without logic.
Without guarantees.
Noah spoke quietly.
"You didn't tell me you were going to marry him, too."
Not accusing.
Just... hurt.
Clara looked up.
"I didn't tell you anything."
And for the first time,
She wasn't sure that was true.
Noah held her gaze.
"Yes," he said softly.
"You did."
Like he wasn't arguing.
Just remembering.
Elijah's hand came down on the table.
"She chose me."
Clara looked between them.
The letters.
The ledger.
The life she didn't remember.
The choice she didn't remember making.
But the feeling in those words...
That was hers.
Even if the memory wasn't.
Noah didn't argue.
Didn't fight.
The letters lay scattered across the table, covering his ledger.
He just stood there.
Looking.
Then something in him gave.
Quiet.
Final.
As Clara gathered the letters, hands trembling, Elijah's words settled in.
She chose me.
Noah reached forward, closed the ledger, and lifted it into his arms.
Then he stepped back.
Once.
Then again.
Elijah didn't stop him.
Clara focused on stacking the letters.
Didn't look up.
Didn't stop him.
That was what did it.
Noah turned.
And walked out.
The moment the door shut, Elijah moved.
Fast.
Certain.
His hands found Clara's waist, lifting her onto the edge of the table like she weighed nothing.
"Hey, "
The word disappeared as his mouth found hers.
Clara leaned into him instantly, her hands catching on his shoulders, her breath catching as he pulled her closer.
This made sense.
This she understood.
"You chose me," Elijah murmured against her lips.
Like he needed to hear it again.
Clara's heart pounded.
"I..."
Her mind spun.
Letters blocking her excuses.
Feelings she had.
Memories she didn't.
"I think I did," she said softly.
Not perfect.
Not certain.
But enough.
Elijah smiled like it was everything.
"That's all I need."
He kissed her again, slower now, steadier.
Then rested his forehead against hers.
"I'll make us breakfast."
Like nothing could shake him now.
Clara let out a small breath.
"I was actually thinking..."
She hesitated, then smiled faintly.
"I want to go out to the barn. Look at the feed inventory. See if the numbers match the ledger."
Elijah blinked.
Then laughed quietly.
"Only woman alive who'd pick hay counting over sittin' with her husband."
Clara grinned.
"Occupational hazard."
He shook his head, amused, brushing his thumb along her cheek.
"Don't be long."
"I won't."
She slipped away.
The barn smelled like hay, dust, and animals.
Clara stepped inside slowly, her mind still spinning.
Letters.
Numbers.
Two men who both,
Strong hands caught her.
Pulled her back.
Clara gasped.
Her heart slammed once.
Then stilled.
Noah.
He didn't speak right away.
Just held her.
Like he needed to make sure she was real.
Like he needed one moment where she didn't pull away.
His breath was uneven.
"You believe him," he said quietly.
Not a question.
Clara swallowed.
"I read the letters."
"It's my handwriting."
Noah nodded.
"You always trusted what you wrote."
She turned slightly in his hold.
"You need to stop doing that."
"Doing what?"
"Talking like you know me."
His gaze didn't waver.
"I do."
That shouldn't have hit.
But it did.
Clara shook her head.
"This doesn't make sense."
Noah's hand stilled.
Then,
"How's Irene?"
The world stopped.
Not slowed.
Stopped.
Clara froze.
Her breath caught so hard it hurt.
"...what?"
Noah watched her carefully.
"Irene," he said again. "Does she still have game nights?"
Clara's heart slammed against her ribs.
No.
No, that wasn't,
Everything else could be explained.
Twisted.
Guessed.
But that,
That was home.
"How do you know my sister?" she whispered.
"I didn't pull it from nowhere."
His voice stayed calm.
That made it worse.
Clara stepped back, shaking her head.
"You don't get to do that," she said, voice unsteady.
"Then where?" she demanded.
Silence stretched.
Then Noah reached for her hand slowly.
Giving her time to pull away.
She didn't.
He turned it over.
Exposing her wedding ring.
Pressed a soft kiss against it.
"You came to me first," he said quietly.
Clara shook her head.
"I don't remember that."
"I know."
That hurt more than anything else.
"There are things you ain't ready to say out loud yet," he added. "Not with him."
Her breath came too fast now.
"How do I get back?" she whispered.
She didn't even know what she meant.
Or which answer she wanted.
Noah's expression shifted.
Careful.
Dangerous.
His thumb brushed her ring.
"Tonight," he said quietly.
Clara's stomach dropped.
"If you come to my bed."
Her breath caught.
Because that,
That sounded like a choice.
Noah held her gaze.
Like he already knew.
Then softer,
"I'll show you."
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