The Letter

Lena had always been good at noticing things. Small things—like the way people hesitated before telling a lie, the faint scent of rain before a storm, or how her mother's smile never quite reached her eyes anymore. But she never expected to notice this.

It was an ordinary afternoon when she found the letter.

The school day had dragged on, and she had barely paid attention in class. Her mind was elsewhere—on the argument her parents had last night, on the uneasy silence that followed. So when she stepped into her room and saw the envelope resting on her desk, she felt an instant chill.

No one ever left her letters.

The envelope was a soft cream color, slightly crumpled at the edges. No name. No return address. Just her.

Lena hesitated, her fingers brushing over the flap before she tore it open.

Inside was a single piece of paper, folded twice. The handwriting was neat but unfamiliar.

Lena,

You don't know me, but I know you.

If you want answers, come to the old train station.

Midnight.

Come alone.

Lena's heart pounded.

This had to be a joke. Right? Someone messing with her? But who would do that? And what answers?

She glanced around her room, as if expecting someone to jump out and admit it was a prank. The walls, the bookshelves, the worn-out rug—everything was the same as always. But the air felt different now.

She read the letter again. Midnight. The old train station.

Her parents would kill her if they knew she was even considering it.

But Lena had always been good at noticing things. And something told her this wasn't just a prank.

This was something real.

And she needed to find out why.