After five grueling hours fighting a house fire, I was tapped on the shoulder by the homeowner, Marius. He handed me a silver case I’d saved from the blaze, urging me to open it. Inside was a photo of Anca, my high school friend who vanished at seventeen, presumed dead. Stunned, I learned from Marius that the previous tenant, “Veronica,” likely Anca, left letters addressed to me. That night, I read them, finding a map to Camp Valea Mare. I drove there, discovering a deserted camp. A camera blinked above the cabin door, and Anca appeared,
alive but changed. She’d been hidden by her mother to escape debts, living under aliases after her mom’s death. She’d written me unsent letters for years. We reconnected, talking for hours. I helped her reclaim her life, moving her into my world. Anca began painting again, opening a studio. Months later, she gave me a photo of us, captioned, “Sometimes the fire clears the way.” Fate reunited us through a fire, proving some losses return when least expected.
