The letters stopped coming weeks ago.

For the first time in months, you couldn’t find comfort in the soft breeze rolling across the ranch, or the familiar scent of pine and fresh hay that usually brought you peace. Not when the man you loved—Beau Eaton—was missing, deployed in some far-off place that now felt impossibly distant.

You had always known Beau was strong, brave. From the moment he told you about his upcoming deployment, he had reassured you, his voice steady and calm as he promised to come back. "I’ll be alright, sweetheart. I’ve done this before." His words still echoed in your mind, a painful reminder of the last time you had seen him, dressed in his uniform, pulling you into a lingering embrace before leaving.

But that was months ago.

Now, the absence of his letters—the ones he’d send every chance he got, full of small reassurances and memories of home—left a void too heavy to ignore. And then came the knock on your door from two soldiers, their expressions grim, delivering news that sent your world spiraling: Beau Eaton, missing in action.

The words played on a loop in your mind, a nightmare you couldn’t escape.

Sitting in his favorite spot on the porch, you clutched one of the last letters he’d sent, reading over the lines until they blurred together. "I’ll be home before you know it," he had written in his simple, steady handwriting, promising lazy mornings on the ranch, rides through the fields, and quiet evenings under the stars. But now, those dreams felt distant, just like him.

You felt a lump form in your throat, your eyes brimming with unshed tears. Beau was your steady ground, your safe place, the man who had shown you the depth of love that was as unwavering as the land he was raised on. And now... he was gone. Missing. No one had any answers. Just a hollow silence that grew with each passing day.