One lazy evening, while rearranging an old drawer, Arjun found a dusty notebook - the kind Shruthi used to write in during college. Tucked inside it were folded pages with dates, but no titles.

He opened one.

"6 July, 2021 - 1:12 AM

You were asleep on the sofa, tired after work, one hand still on your laptop. I watched you breathe - the slow, honest kind of breath that comes from giving too much of yourself.

I wanted to wake you up and tell you how much I loved you? but instead, I kissed your forehead and whispered it in silence."*

Arjun froze.

He hadn't known. He'd never read these words. But they existed - untouched, unheard, full of love that never made it past her lips.

That night, he called her.

"Did you ever write to me?" he asked.

Shruthi hesitated.

"Yes. Hundreds of times. In journals, in emails I never sent, in texts I typed and deleted."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I thought you were tired of waiting. Because I was afraid my words were too late."

Moved by that moment, they made a pact.

To send one unsent letter every night - no matter how silly, emotional, or messy.

The first was from Arjun:

"I missed your humming in the shower today. You made even off-tune sound like music. The bathroom feels too quiet without it."

Shruthi replied:

"I wore your old T-shirt to bed. The one you said makes me look like a teenager. It doesn't smell like you anymore? but I pretend it does."

They found laughter in these letters.

Tears too.

But mostly, they found each other again - in memories they had buried, in feelings they were too scared to admit when time was slipping.

The distance hadn't erased their love.

It had just kept it quiet.

Now, the letters spoke.

And in their words, healing began.

Here is the next chapter of Arjun and Shruthi's journey: