The rain started in the afternoon. It tapped gently on the windows and filled the house with a soft, steady sound. Emma sat in the living room, sorting through an old wooden chest she had found in the corner. It smelled of cedar and dust.
Inside were photographs, postcards, and folded pieces of paper. Most of them were yellow and brittle. She lifted a stack of letters tied together with a thin ribbon. Most were addressed to her grandmother.
One envelope stood out. It was larger than the rest and had no stamp or address. The paper was thick, and the handwriting on the front was neat but strange—almost too careful.
Emma opened it slowly. Inside was a single sheet, folded in half. The ink had faded, but the words were still clear enough to read.
It spoke of a promise. A secret. And a warning. The writer said something was hidden in the house, something that must never be found by the wrong person. It also mentioned a name Emma didn't recognize.
She read the letter twice, her heart beating faster each time. It was signed with just one initial—L.
Emma looked toward the hallway where the locked door waited. She couldn't explain why, but she knew the letter was connected to it.
Outside, the rain grew heavier. The sound filled the house, but it made her feel even more alone. She folded the letter and kept it in her pocket.