Breadcrumbs

 Sunlight filtered through the canopy of trees, dappling the forest floor with patches of golden light. Emma adjusted the strap of her backpack and set off in search of a letterbox. It had become her solace during rare breaks from her whirlwind life as a photojournalist for National Geographic. It was a quiet, meditative hobby that let her explore the world in a different way—one that didn’t involve deadlines or the pressure of capturing a perfect shot.

She’d discovered this series of letterboxes a week ago while preparing for an overdue vacation. Logging onto the letterboxing website, Emma had been surprised to find a series of boxes titled Heartstrings. What startled her most was they had been planted ten years before by someone called BestFriend. 

It had been their old trail name, a nod to the charm necklaces she and Ben had exchanged in college when they were young and inseparable. Each wore half of a heart. Hers read Best, his read Friend.  They’d even made matching stamps for their letterboxing adventures. When they broke up after graduation, they swapped the stamps as parting gifts. Emma had carried Ben’s Friend stamp with her ever since, though she hadn’t used it in years.

She found the letterbox nestled beneath the roots of a spruce tree, hidden in a pile of moss-covered stones. She brushed away damp leaves with gloved hands, her breath curling in the crisp Nova Scotia air. Her heart raced as she tugged the weathered container free.

Inside was a logbook and a carefully wrapped stamp. It was designed as a compass rose, simple yet elegant, carved with precision. What caught her attention wasn’t the stamp; it was the note at the top of the logbook. Written in neat handwriting were the words: “The best adventures start with an open heart.”

Emma sat back on her heels, staring at the note as her chest tightened. The handwriting was bold and familiar… it couldn’t be. Could it?

She inked and stamped the compass rose into her own personal logbook and pressed her half-heart friend stamp into the letterbox log. Her mind raced with memories of Ben. His lopsided grin as he handed her the freshly carved heart stamps before their first college letterboxing adventure; the way his steady presence had always balanced out her restless energy; their whispered dreams of traveling and maybe one day settling down in Nova Scotia.

Later that night, after returning to her Airbnb, she logged her find on the website. Her mind raced with memories of Ben, wondering if he could be the one who had planted the boxes, and if he would know she had found one.

She followed the trail of letterboxes like breadcrumbs over the next few days, each cache pulling her deeper into Nova Scotia’s rugged beauty.  The stamp in the first box was carved like a lighthouse, the note read “Love shines like a beacon in the dark.”

The second box held a stamp of an anchor. “Dreams of you are anchored in my heart.”

The final clue led her to a bluff overlooking the Atlantic at sunset. The trail climbed through dense forest before opening onto a windswept clearing. Emma spotted a cairn of stones marking the last letterbox and knelt to retrieve it.

Her breath caught when she opened it. Inside was an object she’d never thought to see again.  Ben’s half of their heart charm necklace, the piece that read Friend. Her hands shook as she took out the logbook and read the note at the top.

"Sometimes we have to lose what we love to find our way back to it."

The tears came when she unwrapped the stamp and saw it was Ben’s *Best* stamp. Slowly, she pressed it into ink and aligned it beside her own Friend stamp in her logbook, completing the heart for the first time in twenty years.

Emma returned the box to its hiding place and stood slowly, lost in memory. The sun was dipping lower on the horizon, painting the cliffs in hues of gold and crimson.

“Emma.”

And there he was, at the edge of the bluff, silhouetted against the setting sun like something out of a dream.

He looked older but no less familiar: broad shoulders wrapped in a dark coat; warm blue eyes framed by faint lines; that same steady presence that had once anchored her restless spirit.

“Ben,” she whispered.

His lips curved into a tentative smile as he stepped closer. “I wasn’t sure if you’d ever come.”

Her chest tightened as tears stung her eyes. “You left this,” she said, holding out his half of their necklace.

“I was hoping you’d find it. I’ve been waiting,” he admitted quietly.

“For ten years?” Her voice trembled with disbelief. And… Anger?

“For longer than that,” he said softly.

Emma’s breath hitched as memories flooded back: late nights spent poring over maps together, dreaming about all the places they’d visit; their summer trip to Nova Scotia before graduation; their whispered promises under starlit skies that they’d always find their way back to each other.

She shook her head, blinking back tears. “Why didn’t you ever call me?”

“I thought I was doing what you wanted,” he said simply. “You were chasing your dreams. I didn’t want to hold you back.”

“That wasn’t your choice to make,” she shot back, her voice breaking.

“I know,” he said after a moment, his gaze steady despite the pain in it. “You could’ve called me, too.  At least you knew where to find me.”

“I thought you’d be married by now. You always said you wanted children,” Emma said.

             “Not without you,” Ben replied with a familiar shrug of his shoulders.

They stood in silence for what felt like an eternity before Emma removed her own half of their heart shaped necklace, the piece that read Best. Slowly, she stepped forward and fit them together in his hand.

“I missed you,” she said softly.

“I missed you, too” Ben replied. 

As they sat on a nearby bench overlooking the ocean, Ben told Emma everything: how he had inherited enough money after his father’s death to buy property here, where he spent every spring and summer planting letterboxes and hoping she’d come find them.

“Why Nova Scotia?” she asked after a moment.

Ben smiled faintly. “Because it was our dream,” he said. “I wanted to live here, to keep our memories alive.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You live here?”

“Part-time,” he admitted. “The rest of the year I run my dad’s newspaper back in Colorado. But this… this is where I feel closest to you.”

Emma listened quietly, feeling something shift inside her, a longing she hadn’t even realized she carried until now. She loved her job, traveling and chasing stories across continents; but she also yearned for somewhere to call home between assignments, a place where someone would be waiting for her.

“I don’t know what to say,” she whispered.

“Say you’ll stay,” he said simply.

She let out a shaky laugh through her tears. “For how long?”

“For as long as you want,” he said with a smile that made her heart ache in all the best ways.