Miss Historian and Her Lady Guide (The Love We Found)

The Unseen Letter

### **Chapter 1: The Unseen Letter**

The warm afternoon sun cast long shadows over the cobblestone streets of Vigan, its golden rays reflecting off the timeworn façades of ancestral homes. Roxan brushed a strand of hair from her face, her camera hanging from her neck as she marveled at the well-preserved Spanish-era architecture. This wasn't her first time in the historical town, but each visit seemed to reveal a new detail—a hidden corner, a forgotten story waiting to be told.

Roxan had come to Vigan not just for its beauty, but for its secrets. As a historical researcher, she was driven by a fascination with the past, an insatiable curiosity that often pulled her into the quietest, dustiest corners of old libraries and archives. She found solace in the quiet hum of history, where each crumbling piece of parchment was a whisper from another time.

Today, her destination was the local museum, housed in an old mansion with a weathered but stately exterior. She had been given special permission to explore the archives—documents that hadn't been cataloged or even touched in years. There was a rumor of letters, diaries, and journals, remnants of lives that had once breathed in this very town. She felt a thrill of excitement at what she might discover.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of aged paper and wood polish. The curator, an elderly man with a gentle smile, led her through the maze of rooms, his cane tapping softly on the tiled floors. "Most of these records haven't been touched in decades," he said. "They've been waiting for someone like you."

Roxan nodded, her eyes scanning the shelves lined with books and boxes. She felt a twinge of anticipation, a feeling that something significant lay hidden within these walls. She set down her bag and began her careful search, gently opening boxes, leafing through pages, allowing herself to be guided by instinct.

It was a small, unassuming box in the corner that caught her eye. Its edges were frayed, the lid barely holding together. Inside, she found a stack of letters tied with a faded blue ribbon, the paper yellowed and fragile. Her heart quickened as she carefully untied the ribbon and began to read.

The handwriting was delicate, the ink slightly smudged in places. As her eyes moved over the words, she realized it was a love letter. But not just any love letter—this one was between two women. She felt a shiver run down her spine. The letter spoke of secret meetings, hidden glances, and longing. It was signed by someone named "María," addressed to a "Isabel." Roxan's hands trembled slightly as she turned the page. There was a date: June 17, 1873.

The world around her seemed to blur as she sat down, unable to tear her eyes away. Here, in her hands, was a story that had been hidden for over a century. A story of love in a time when such love was forbidden, a story that could change how people saw their past.

"Is everything okay?" The curator's voice broke through her thoughts.

Roxan blinked and looked up. "Yes, I...I think I've found something," she replied, her voice filled with wonder.

He raised an eyebrow, curious but respectful. "What is it?"

"A letter. A love letter... between two women, from the 1800s."

The curator's eyes widened, and he nodded slowly. "That would indeed be something rare. Very rare." He paused, considering her with a thoughtful expression. "You may need someone who knows the town's stories well... someone like Dana."

Roxan felt a spark of intrigue at the mention of the name. She had heard of Dana—the local guide with a reputation for being lively, knowledgeable, and slightly unpredictable. Some said she knew every secret the town held. Roxan knew she would need all the help she could get to uncover the truth behind the letter.

An hour later, Roxan found herself standing in front of a small café by the town plaza, where Dana was said to spend most of her afternoons. As she waited, a breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby acacia trees, carrying with it the faint scent of jasmine and the distant sound of laughter.

Suddenly, a voice interrupted her thoughts. "You must be Roxan, the historian."

Roxan turned to see a woman approaching—a vibrant presence, with a wide smile and a spark in her eyes. Dana's hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and she carried herself with a confidence that seemed to radiate outwards.

"And you must be Dana," Roxan replied, extending her hand.

Dana laughed, a sound that was warm and infectious. "Guilty as charged. So, what brings you to this little corner of the world today?"

Roxan took a deep breath and held up the letter, a sense of purpose settling within her. "I found something in the archives—a love letter, from 1873, between two women. I think there's a story here... and I'd like your help to uncover it."

Dana's eyes widened with interest, and a slow smile spread across her face. "Now that," she said, "sounds like an adventure I'd like to be part of."

And so, in the softening light of the afternoon, with history whispering from the old walls around them, Roxan and Dana took the first step into a story that would intertwine their lives with the echoes of the past.