The days after reading Celeste's letter passed in a haze. Raine went through the motions of daily life, but everything felt muted, as if the world had lost its color. The weight of Celeste's final words pressed against her heart, both a comfort and a wound that would never fully heal.
She spent hours sitting in her bookstore, running her fingers over the worn wood of the counter, staring at the guitar Celeste had left her. It sat in the corner of her shop now, untouched, a quiet reminder of a love that was never spoken, yet had always been there.
One evening, as the rain drummed softly against the windows, Raine found herself reaching for it.
The wood was smooth beneath her fingertips, the strings slightly worn from years of Celeste's touch. She hesitated, then picked it up, cradling it in her arms the way Celeste once had.
A deep breath. A moment of silence.
And then, she strummed.
The first note wavered, unfamiliar in her hands, but she kept going, letting the music flow. She closed her eyes, remembering the night Celeste had played for her—the only time she had let herself be vulnerable. The melody had been soft, fleeting, unfinished.
Now, it was up to Raine to complete it.
Tears slipped down her cheeks as she played. The music wasn't perfect, but it carried the weight of everything Celeste had left behind—her love, her sorrow, her unspoken words.
She wasn't ready to say goodbye.
Maybe she never would be.
But as the last note faded into the quiet bookstore, Raine knew one thing for certain: Celeste had never truly left.
She would always be here.
In the books Raine placed on the shelves.
In the soft hum of the rain against the windows.
In the melody that would forever linger in her heart.
A love unfinished. A love that would never fade.
The End.