Chapter 2 – Letters Never Meant to Be Read
Mehar had always been a girl of words. Not the kind she spoke aloud, but the kind she folded gently into silence. The ones that lived in the pages of her diary, pressed between sentences like dried flowers — delicate, secret, and forever.
That night after the sunset, she didn't sleep.
Aarav's words — simple, fleeting — echoed louder than they should have. "Maybe that's what makes them worth watching." She repeated them in her head until they didn't even sound like real words anymore.
By morning, her heart had done something foolish.
She picked out her favorite pen, the one with blue ink and a gold cap, and chose a page from her diary. But this time, it wasn't a journal entry. It was a letter.
> Dear You,
I don't know why I'm writing this. You don't even know me. You barely look at me.
But yesterday… you stood next to me. And for a second, the world went quiet.
Not because of what you said. But because I finally heard you.
I know — this means nothing to you. It wasn't special.
But it was for me.
I just wanted you to know that someone noticed.
That someone remembers.
She didn't sign it. She didn't intend to give it to him.
It was just a letter. For herself.
But that wasn't the last one.
One letter became two. Then ten. Then twenty.
Mehar wrote to him the way some people pray — not expecting to be answered, but hoping the universe listened anyway.
She wrote about the way he tilted his head when he was confused, how he always seemed tired but never complained, the way he said thank you to waiters and remembered to water the plants without being asked. She wrote about things he probably never noticed about himself.
And somewhere in those pages, her crush bloomed into something deeper.
Unspoken. Unshared. Untouchable.
Anaya never noticed the letters. She was too busy planning her birthday trip, too busy teasing Mehar about random college boys Mehar didn't even glance at.
Aarav was even more oblivious. He barely spoke to Mehar. If he ever looked at her, she couldn't tell — because she never dared look back directly. But she was always there. Always watching.
One Sunday afternoon, as the sun spilled through Anaya's bedroom window, Mehar sat at her desk with the softest smile. She was writing again.
> Dear You,
Today you laughed at something Anaya said, and it made me want to bottle that sound.
You should laugh more often. The world feels easier when you do.
I hope you never have to lose that part of you.
I won't ever give you these letters.
But still… I'll keep writing.
She didn't know that someday, fate would play a cruel trick — that the words she never meant for anyone to see would find their way to the very eyes they were written for.
But that was far away.
For now, Mehar was just a girl in love with a boy who didn't know she existed — and that was enough.
Love didn't always need to be returned to feel real.
Sometimes, it just needed a heart brave enough to feel it.