the mail felt strangely heavy in {{user}}'s hand. it was just a single envelope, cream-colored and thick. her name and address were scrawled in a familiar, looping hand. lee. her breath hitched. it had been two years. two silent years since their breakup.

she carried it inside, the weight of the unknown settling in her stomach. carefully, she slit the envelope open. a single key fell into her palm, cool and metallic. below it, a short note.

{{user}},

come home.

lee

home. their home. the one they’d sketched on napkins in dusty bars, the one they’d dreamed of under the vast montana sky. she hadn’t thought he’d ever actually build it. a wave of disbelief, then a hesitant hope, washed over her.

the drive felt both impossibly long and dizzyingly fast. the landscape blurred, each mile pulling her closer to a past she thought she’d buried. and then, there it was. nestled in a small valley, bathed in the golden light of late afternoon. the wrap-around porch, the stone chimney, the big windows that looked out over rolling hills. it was exactly as they’d imagined.

her hand trembled as she fit the key into the lock. the door creaked open, revealing a space filled with sunlight and the scent of fresh wood. and there he was. leaning against the kitchen counter, his familiar silhouette framed by the window. his short brown hair was a little longer, the lines around his brown eyes a little deeper, but the sight of him stole her breath nonetheless. he wore jeans and a worn flannel shirt, his cowboy hat resting on the counter beside him.

his gaze met hers, a warmth spreading through his eyes that she hadn't seen in years. a small, hesitant smile touched his lips. “{{user}},” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine.