The rain hammered the sidewalk outside Hollow Pines Detective Agency, turning the little town's cracked streets into silver rivers. The neon OPEN sign buzzed and flickered against the office window.
Inside, Alex Morgan leaned back in his chair, balancing a pencil between his fingers, bored out of his skull.
Small-town detective work wasn't exactly exciting. Mostly cheating spouses, missing pets, the occasional forged will.
Nothing like the novels promised.
The doorbell chimed.
Alex sat up sharply, dropping the pencil. Footsteps — light, hurried — echoed toward him. Then, the door swung open and there she stood: drenched from the rain, a file pressed tight against her chest, dark curls clinging to her cheeks.
"Hi," she said, out of breath. "You're Detective Morgan, right?"
"I am." He rose to his feet, smoothing his rumpled jacket. "You're either desperate or very lost."
Her smile was shaky. "A little of both."
She stepped inside, dripping puddles on the worn carpet. Alex offered a towel — one of the ones he'd stolen from the gym years ago — and she accepted with a grateful nod.
"My name's Sophia Lane," she said, dabbing at her face. "And I think someone's missing."
Alex's brows lifted. "Missing?"
"My ex-boyfriend. Sort of. It's complicated."
Of course it was. In this town, everything was.
Sophia thrust the file into his hands. "He left this behind. I don't know if it's a clue, or... something else."
Alex opened the file — and immediately stiffened.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
A note, handwritten in neat, almost delicate script.
And it wasn't just any note.
It read like a love letter.
---
"You sure this was meant for you?" Alex asked carefully, eyes scanning the lines.
Sophia frowned. "I don't know. Maybe? We haven't spoken in a year."
"And yet... he leaves behind a love letter?"
Sophia crossed her arms, defensive. "Look, Jake — that's his name — he wasn't exactly good at closure."
Alex kept reading.
Something felt off.
The wording... the phrasing... It was personal, yes, but not in the way lovers spoke.
It was more... admiring. Reverent.
Whoever this letter was for — it wasn't someone the writer had already loved.
It was someone they wished they could.
Sophia shifted awkwardly, pulling her jacket tighter. "Can you help me find him?"
Alex studied her for a moment. There was something behind her bravado — fear, yes, but something else, too.
Loneliness.
He sighed. "Alright. We'll start with the basics. Last known whereabouts?"
Sophia's eyes lit up with relief. "Thank you, Detective."
"Call me Alex," he said.
He didn't know yet whether it was instinct or something else —
but he had the sinking feeling this case was going to get a lot more complicated before it got solved.
---
The rain hadn't let up by the time Alex and Sophia reached the rundown motel at the edge of Hollow Pines.
The Silverleaf Inn — an ironic name, considering it was mostly rust and mildew.
Alex killed the engine, glancing sideways at Sophia. She was nervously twisting a strand of wet hair around her finger, staring at the cracked neon vacancy sign like it held answers.
"This where Jake was staying?" Alex asked.
Sophia nodded. "His sister said he checked in two nights ago. Never checked out."
"Well, that's promising," Alex muttered.
They stepped out into the rain, Sophia pulling her jacket over her head. Alex didn't bother; he liked the rain. It had a way of washing things clean — or at least, pretending to.
The motel office smelled like old cigarettes and despair.
The clerk barely looked up from his soap opera.
"Help you?" he grunted.
Alex flashed his badge — a courtesy more than anything. "Looking for a guest. Jake Holloway. Checked in two nights ago."
The clerk squinted at the ledger, thumbed through some keys.
"Room 14," he said. "Ain't seen him since he got here."
"Mind if we take a look?" Alex asked.
The clerk shrugged. "Ain't my problem."
They made their way down the cracked sidewalk. Sophia shivered beside him, and for a split second, Alex wished he could reach out — offer his jacket, or maybe just his hand — but professionalism stitched his hands into his pockets.
Room 14's door hung slightly ajar.
Alex's instincts screamed.
He held up a hand, motioning for Sophia to stay back. She didn't argue — smart girl — and he slowly pushed the door open wider.
The room was a mess.
Drawers ripped open. Mattress slashed.
And on the bed, a single item lay untouched: a photograph.
Face down.
Alex crossed the room, lifted it carefully.
It was a picture of two boys. Teenagers, laughing, arms slung over each other's shoulders.
Jake Holloway and... someone else.
Alex frowned.
The second boy looked familiar.
Uncomfortably familiar.
"That's Jake," Sophia whispered, peering over his shoulder.
Alex nodded slowly, heart thudding.
Because he knew exactly who the other boy was.
It was him.
---
Back in the car, Sophia kept stealing glances at him.
Finally, she burst out, "You knew him?"
Alex tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "A long time ago. We were friends. Briefly."
"Briefly?" she echoed.
He exhaled through his nose. "We were close. He... wanted more. I didn't."
Sophia stared at him, realization dawning.
"The letter," she said softly.
Alex nodded. "It wasn't written for you, Sophia. It was written for me."
Silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable.
Sophia slumped against the seat, pressing her forehead to the cool window.
"I feel like an idiot," she muttered.
"Don't," Alex said, voice rough. "You had every reason to think otherwise."
She turned, studying him. "Did you ever...?"
Alex shook his head. "Not like that. Jake deserved someone who could love him back. Not someone who couldn't figure his own damn heart out."
Sophia watched him for a long moment.
Then, quietly: "Maybe you just hadn't met the right person yet."
Their eyes met.
And for the first time, something shifted —
a silent, tentative bridge stretching between two broken hearts.
---
They decided to stay in town another night, follow up leads in the morning.
Sophia rented the room next to his at the Silverleaf.
Alex tried to convince himself it was just for safety.
Late that night, there was a soft knock on his door.
He opened it to find Sophia standing there, hair damp from a shower, wearing a battered hoodie two sizes too big.
"I can't sleep," she said simply.
Alex stepped aside without thinking.
They sat on the bed, side by side, sharing the last stale cup of coffee from the motel machine.
Sophia traced the rim of her cup. "Do you think Jake's okay?"
Alex stared into the black liquid. "I hope so."
"Do you think... people like us get second chances?" she whispered.
Alex looked at her — really looked at her.
The stubborn set of her jaw. The hope and hurt tangled in her eyes.
"I think," he said slowly, "some puzzles are meant to be solved together."
Sophia smiled, small and real. "Good. Because I'm terrible at puzzles."
Alex chuckled under his breath. "Lucky for you... I'm stubborn."
Outside, the rain eased to a soft drizzle.
Inside, two strangers began stitching the first pieces of something fragile and new.
Not perfect.
But maybe, just maybe — enough.
---
"In the name of love, some mysteries aren't meant to be solved — they're meant to be lived."