Chapter 36 – Letters We Never Sent
There's a difference between what we say and what we wish we could say.
The things we keep to ourselves, hidden between thoughts, tucked behind our smiles.
The letters we never sent.
The words that stay locked up.
—
Mehar was cleaning out an old drawer when she found it.
A small, crumpled envelope, the edges worn, the seal faded from time.
She knew what it was before she even opened it.
A letter from the past.
A letter she had never sent.
—
Aarav was on the couch, lost in his phone, but when Mehar sat beside him, the envelope between her fingers, he looked up. "What's that?"
She didn't answer at first. She just stared at it—her handwriting, so familiar, so different from the woman she was now.
"You wrote this?" Aarav asked, gently.
She nodded. "I wrote it the day we moved in together. Before all the arguments. Before we understood what it was to truly be together."
Aarav's voice softened. "What did it say?"
She opened it, the paper crackling. Her eyes scanned the first few lines, her heart catching with every word.
"To the man who never knew he was my home,"
She paused.
It was strange reading her own words. A reminder of how unsure she had been. How much she had loved him, even when she didn't have the courage to say it aloud.
She continued reading silently.
"Sometimes, I wish I could just tell you that you're everything I never thought I needed. But we hide behind silence, don't we? I'm scared of what happens when I say the words I can't take back. You've become my favorite place, and I don't want to mess it up. So maybe… maybe I'll leave this unsent. Because sometimes, words aren't enough."
—
Aarav took a deep breath when she finished reading.
He'd always known Mehar was quiet, but he had never realized how much she kept from him, how much she had been afraid of.
"I think you should've sent it," Aarav said softly, his eyes never leaving hers.
Mehar smiled sadly. "It wouldn't have changed anything."
"Maybe it would have," he whispered. "Maybe we needed to learn to say the things we kept locked away."
—
And in that moment, everything made sense.
They didn't need letters or grand gestures.
They needed honesty.
They needed the courage to say the things they had never said.
—
As she put the letter back into the drawer, she knew something had shifted. The unspoken words had found their place.
It wasn't too late.
Not for them.
And perhaps, that was enough.
—