Harbo street

Chapter Three

Harbor Street

The town looked exactly as Clara remembered it—except now it felt haunted.

Harbor Street was quiet, its narrow sidewalks lined with crooked lampposts and weathered shop signs. A soft mist hung in the air, making the coastal town feel like it was stuck between two worlds—half submerged in fog, half bathed in pale sunlight. The ocean was just beyond the hill, the sound of the waves crashing softly on the shore, like a constant whisper.

Clara parked her car along the edge of the street and sat for a moment, gripping the steering wheel.

The last time she was here, Thomas had been beside her, his hand warm in hers, his smile content and easy. They had spent the day wandering the small shops, visiting the pier, and eating fresh seafood at a family-run diner. He’d insisted on taking a walk along the docks, even though it was chilly, telling her it reminded him of when he was younger.

She’d never thought twice about it then. Now, she couldn’t shake the feeling that it had all meant something else.

She took a deep breath and got out of the car, feeling the cool ocean air cut through her like a knife. She reached into her bag, her fingers brushing the edges of the letters as if they were a map, guiding her to the truth she wasn’t sure she was ready for.

As she walked down Harbor Street, her eyes caught on a small storefront with a green-painted door. The glass display was filled with delicate sea glass necklaces—green, blue, clear. The sight made her heart race.

This was it. This was the shop Thomas had written about in the letters—the one with the green glass in the window. The one where he had almost gone inside, but hadn’t.

Clara stood frozen for a moment. The air seemed to thicken around her, as if the entire street was holding its breath.

She pushed open the door. A small bell chimed overhead, the sound echoing in the quiet shop.

Inside, the space was dim and warm, with the scent of lavender and the sea hanging in the air. Shelves of books lined the walls, mixed with framed photographs, shells, and baskets of smooth pebbles. There was a counter at the far end, where a woman was sorting through a tray of jewelry.

The woman looked up as Clara entered, her dark eyes studying her with an almost unreadable expression. She was older than Clara by maybe a decade, with streaks of silver in her dark hair. There was a stillness in her gaze, an air of someone who had lived through their own share of loss.

Clara opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat.

The woman’s eyes softened as she noticed Clara’s hesitation. “Can I help you?” she asked.

Clara’s hand instinctively went to her bag, where the letters lay. The name written on them floated through her mind: Mae.

Clara took a deep breath. “I’m… looking for someone.”

The woman tilted her head, a slight frown crossing her face. “Who?”

Clara swallowed, then spoke softly: “Mae.”

The woman’s face went still.

Outside, the gulls cried out, their calls echoing like a warning. Clara could almost feel the pulse of something old and unfinished in the air between them.

The silence stretched.

Finally, the woman spoke, her voice quieter this time: “You’re looking for Mae.”

Clara nodded, her heart hammering in her chest. The words were finally out, but the fear in her chest was only growing stronger.

Now it was real. The letters. The secrets. The unknown woman who had never been a part of her life, but had always been there, waiting in the spaces between Thomas’s words.

“Why?” the woman asked, her voice gentle but piercing. “Why do you need to find her?”

Clara swallowed again, trying to steady her breathing. She felt like she was being tested, but she couldn’t look away. Mae’s eyes were full of something—a quiet knowing, a sadness. It was the same look she’d seen in Thomas’s eyes on the few occasions he had seemed lost, as if part of him was always somewhere else.

“I… I found letters,” Clara said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Letters he wrote to her. To you.”

Mae’s expression didn’t change, but Clara saw something shift in her gaze, as if the weight of those words had opened a door that had long been sealed.

“I’m not the person you’re looking for,” Mae said after a long silence, her voice soft but firm. “But I know who she is.”

Clara’s pulse quickened. “Who?” she asked, barely able to breathe.

Mae stepped back from the counter, her eyes flickering briefly to the jewelry tray. “I’ll tell you. But it won’t be easy.”

Clara’s hands shook, her mind racing. There was so much more to uncover. So many questions to ask.

Mae’s gaze locked with hers. “You should know,” she said quietly, “some stories are not meant to be found. But you can try.”

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***