Rose Rain
Calm. Intimate. Aching.
- ambient
- soft rain on a windowpane
- voice
- “hi…”
- haptic
- audio-synced, AHAP
letters that wait for them
Foldhush is a sealed love-letter app for iPhone — for the long-distance partner, the bestie three time zones over, the parent you'd write to if texting were enough. Choose a Trace: a colour, a sound, your voice, a haptic. They open it — and a room arrives with the words.
iPhone · launching June 2026 · iOS 17.4+
for the one I miss tonight
my love,
— yours
← drag the flap to open · or press Enter →
Why this exists
MMy wife told me how, when she was a child, children used to scent paper letters with perfume and save them in boxes. She would re-smell them years later — and the memory came back whole.
We can't deliver smell on a phone. But we can deliver the next-strongest cross-modal triggers — voice, ambient sound, color, and haptics — woven into a single signature.
We call it the Trace.
Alvaro — building Foldhush, one person, Madrid
the founding letter
The wax monogram, the Founders Trace, the personal first letter from Alvaro — these never reopen after launch. Join the waitlist. If you're in the first five hundred, you're a Founding Letter, and you get:
Public price after launch
7-day trial · weekly available at $5.99/wk
Founding 500 · lifetime access
≈ £40 · ≈ €46 · ≈ ¥7,500 · ≈ ₩69k · paid once, never again.
No subscription, no renewal. Your letters live in the app and stay exportable as PDF/MP3 — see Pledge ii.
The Trace
A Trace is four things, played in lockstep when your letter is opened: a colour aura, an ambient soundscape, your whispered voice, and a haptic envelope tuned to the audio waveform. Pick one of five. Or compose your own.
Tap a card — the page takes on its colour.
Calm. Intimate. Aching.
Peaceful. Expansive. Hopeful.
Nostalgic. Warm. A little playful.
Cozy. Grounded. Safe.
Romantic. Slow. Deep.
Yours alone.
Record three to eight seconds of voice, humming, or whistling. Foldhush translates the waveform into a haptic signature only your letters carry. Premium.
new at launch
Five seconds. Five senses.
Every Foldhush letter opens the same way. Slow. No notifications. No badges. No autoplay. The envelope, your thumb, and what's inside.
An envelope sits in your drawer. Sender's name. Their wax monogram. A Trace colour you've started to recognise like a perfume bottle on a dresser.
single soft thump · low haptic transient
Drag the flap with your thumb. The paper rustles. The faster you slide, the higher the pitch, the stronger the buzz. It's not a button. It's a gesture.
continuous paper-rustle, pitch-shifted · continuous haptic, intensity = velocity
The wax splits. Sharp. A burst of colour particles, the Trace's tone.
transient snap · max-sharpness haptic · 22-particle bloom
The paper opens in three folds, the way a real letter does. Each fold a small crinkle.
three soft crinkles · three descending haptic transients
Their voice whispers. The ambient sound rises. The screen breathes their colour. You read the letter inside a room they made for you.
voice whisper · 30-sec ambient loop · colour aura · audio-synced haptic envelope
Reaction haptics. When they open your letter, your phone buzzes with their Trace. The loop closes without a chat thread.
Keepsake drawer. Every letter lives forever. Open it in five years. The ritual plays again, the same way.
Open When. Schedule a letter for an anniversary, a deployment, a birthday in 2031. They can't open it until that moment.
Who it's for
Foldhush is not a social network. There are no likes. No follows. No public profiles. Only the person you're writing to and the room your letter makes when it opens.
For long-distance couples
“We were 6,000 miles apart for 14 months. We sent a thousand iMessages. I remember three of them.”
Foldhush is the love-letter app you reach for when a text isn't enough. Deployments, visa years, the semester abroad, time zones that don't match. Distance needs a ritual.
For best friends
“They moved for a job. We text every day. I still miss them on Tuesdays.”
We grew up on perfumed paper letters tucked in birthday boxes. Foldhush is for the friend who knows your handwriting. Send a Trace they'll recognise before they read a word.
For families
“I want my dad to hear my voice on a slow Sunday. Not on FaceTime. On his schedule.”
Slower than a call. Warmer than a text. A letter that waits in a drawer until they're ready.
In writing
We're asking for your email and, eventually, $49.99 once. The least we can do is put what we promise on the page — in plain English, where every visitor can hold us to it.
$49.99 once. Lifetime access. No subscription.
A one-time payment through Apple's in-app purchase. Lifetime access for as long as Foldhush operates the iOS app. No annual renewal, no auto-charge, no churn. Written into Terms §4 before launch — it survives acquisition, App Store changes, and product pivots.
If we shut down, your letters come with you.
If we voluntarily wind down Foldhush, we give at least 90 days notice and a self-serve archive: every letter as PDF, every voice file as MP3, every custom Trace as an AHAP file. In the event of insolvency or acquisition, we use commercially reasonable efforts to provide equivalent export. We will not sell your data. We will not hold your keepsakes hostage.
Subscriptions only. No ads, no letter-content analytics, no AI training on what you wrote.
We use TelemetryDeck for anonymous product metrics. Letter bodies and voice recordings are never read by us and never shared with any third party. If we ever change this, you get notice and a one-click export first.
Alvaro — building Foldhush, one person, Madrid.
Join the waitlist
The first 500 reservations lock $49.99 once, lifetime access. After that, $39.99/yr subscription. (See the Founder's Pledge.) One email below — that's all.
No newsletter. No drip campaign. One email a week before launch. One the day we launch. We will not sell your address — we have nothing to sell.
Sealed.
Reservation noted. Your launch invitation goes to your inbox.
Move up the queue. Send this link to one person you'd write a letter to — every friend who joins through it moves you one place closer to the first 500.
The list grows the way letters do — one person at a time, told by someone they love.
Answered
before you go
press the seal
to the person who said yes early,
Letter Zero is already written. The day you join the Founding 500 — $49.99 once, never again — it arrives in your drawer with your wax monogram on the back. Open it once. Open it in five years. The room I made for you plays the same way both times.
That's the only welcome email Foldhush will ever send. After that, you write the rest.