Inside the pillow, nestled amidst the worn stuffing, was a small, intricately carved wooden box. My hands trembled as I pulled it out. How had I not noticed this before? The box was polished to a shine, its surface smooth despite a few nicks and scratches that spoke of age and use. It was locked with a tiny brass latch, which opened easily with a gentle push.
Curiosity getting the better of me, I opened the box. Inside, I discovered a collection of yellowed, folded letters tied with a faded red ribbon. Each envelope was addressed to me, dated before our marriage, during the time when Héctor and I were just two young souls who thought they had found love.
My heart ached as I realized these were the love letters we had exchanged, back when every word seemed like a promise of forever. I gently took one out and unfolded it, the familiar handwriting bringing back memories. The words were filled with so much hope and dreams—dreams of traveling the world, of building a life together, of always being there for each other. I read through tears, each letter a reminder of the love that once burned brightly between us.
