A love story where two young hearts yearn for each other, but the constraints of society and family stand in their way. In the novel "The Last Letter," the characters teach us how love is not merely a touch of the heart—but an immortal journey of art and heroism. They show that when love endures until the last drop of life's blood, death is not the end of that love, but rather a new beginning. I hope readers will find in every page of this story the strength and hope that flowed from the hearts of Sidrat, Neha, and Akash.
Part-1
The soft afternoon sunlight spread across the old university library. The scent of books and the quiet, still air mingled in a strange harmony. That day, Sidrat's eyes fell upon Neha for the first time, who was sitting at a table nearby, lost in thought. The enchanting depth of her eyes strangely attracted Sidrat.
"Are you familiar with this book?" Sidrat asked with a smile, pointing to the title of the book she was holding. A flicker of surprise crossed Neha's eyes. "Yes, it's my favorite collection of poems," she said with a gentle smile.
Their conversation began in the shadow of the books, and their bond gradually deepened. That brief exchange marked the beginning of a new relationship. From then on, they would meet secretly, exchanging sweet, silent expressions of love in a corner of a small city park. Sidrat was a student of English literature, and Neha of sociology. Although their fields of study were different, their world of thought was the same. The afternoons would turn into evenings, and they would sit by the river—with a cup of tea, a handful of dreams, and sometimes profound silence. However, love stories never follow a straight path. Neha's father, Sajit Islam, was a renowned businessman in the city. In his eyes, love meant foolish waywardness. He wanted Neha to marry Rahul Ali—a man of his choosing, selected based on family honor and business connections. Rahul was arrogant, cunning, and ruthless—yet a symbol of success in the eyes of society. Even uttering Sidrat's name in his presence was considered a crime.
That's when Neha's first battle began—the battle to stand up for her love. One night, under the moonlight by the river, they met. Sidrat said, "Even if I lose everything, I will find you."
Neha asked, "And what if you don't find me?"
Sidrat replied calmly, "Then the light will go out, and I too will retire." But they didn't know that right after this promise, one shadow after another would enter their lives—and it all began after that very night.
Part-2
That day, Sajit Ali's palatial house was filled with a festive atmosphere. The crowd of guests, the various conversations, the soft music, and Rahul's arrival—everything seemed like a facade of forced joy. Rahul, a businessman returned from abroad, was a cold man clad in an expensive suit. The harshness hidden behind his smile was imperceptible, but his gaze revealed that he would get whatever he wanted. Standing in the living room, Neha understood the true purpose of her father's feast. With a serene smile, he said, "This is Rahul, the one whose stories you've heard so much about. From today, he will be your companion on the path of your future."
Rahul looked at Neha and said, "You look sweet in your pictures, but you're even more beautiful in person."
Neha's face was filled with silence. Her eyes dropped to the floor. At that moment, she remembered Sidrat's words, his soft voice—"Even if I lose everything, I will find you." Rahul liked Neha, but it wasn't love; for him, Neha was a kind of conquest, a social victory. A few days later, Rahul found out through his inquiries that Neha frequently met a young man outside the university. The news reached Sajit Ali's ears as well. A wave of anger and humiliation descended upon the house like a thunderclap. "If you have anything going on with that boy, end it today," Sajit said in a grave voice.
Neha only said, "I love someone, Father. That cannot be ended." That night, Neha secretly left the house in the rain. She ran to the riverbank, where Sidrat was waiting.
Both of them knew—this might be their last meeting. Sidrat said, "Your father will never agree, Neha. What if we elope?"
Neha shuddered, "If we elope, my father won't forgive us even if he dies. And Rahul won't leave us alone."
In the flash of lightning, their faces were shrouded in a mixture of shadow and darkness. From that day on, Rahul's jealousy began to burn within him. He picked up his phone and dialed an unknown number. A large sum of money was placed before him. Rahul said, "The girl named Neha Islam will not survive."
Episode-3
That night was shrouded in darkness, the city air filled with the scent of fog and fear. Sidrat was walking alone along the old alley after class. A message from Neha on her phone—"Meet me tomorrow, I have something important to tell you." A faint smile played on her lips. She didn't know that the next morning would be stained with the color of blood. Neha left the office in the afternoon the next day; there was a silence on the street. Suddenly, a shadow came from behind and covered her mouth. Her scream was stifled in her throat. Someone dragged her into an empty alley. A moment of darkness, then the glint of a knife.
Neha tried to resist, but the knife pierced her left side. Before she fell to the ground, the light blurred, and from a distance, a boy's voice—"Leave her alone!"
Sidrat had arrived. A struggle began with the unknown man. Metallic sounds in the air, the sound of breaking glass. The shadow fled into the night. Sidrat sat on the ground, lifted Neha's body onto her lap, and screamed for help, but there was no one around. "Neha, open your eyes... I'm here."
Neha said in a semi-conscious voice, "You... don't go..." Then she fainted. At the same time, in a dark car far away, Rahul's phone rang. The man on the other end said, "The job is not finished."
Intense anger flashed on Rahul's lips; he threw the phone away. "I will finish this drama myself," he said in a cold voice. Meanwhile, it was impossible to reach the hospital. All the roads outside the city were lost in the rain and traffic. Just then, a young doctor suddenly appeared—Akash. Sidrat was sitting outside the operating theater door, trembling, cold rain clinging to her wet clothes. Akash said in a low voice, "Who are you?" Sidrat said, "She is my life." Akash closed the door without saying anything. A few hours later, he came out and said, "She is alive, but we have to escape. Someone is looking for her."
Sidrat looked at him in surprise, "Who?"
Akash sighed, "You won't believe it, it's her own future husband." Sidrat was speechless. The rain had stopped by then, but dark clouds hung in the sky, hinting at an even bigger storm.
Episode-4
Outside the hospital window, the sky was gray. With the dawn light came a plan of escape. Akash knew that Rahul and his men would arrive soon. Neha had to be taken out before night turned into dawn. Sidrat held Neha's hand and said, "They won't let us go."
Neha replied in a tired voice, "But we have to escape." Akash, with the help of a truck driver, got them out of the hospital gate. In the back of the truck were old boxes, medicine bottles, and the hidden sanctuary of a broken love. With the sound of the vehicle, he felt that every rotation of the wheels carried a question. Rahul had already received the news.
In his dimly lit drawing-room, there was a file containing hospital reports, Neha's location, and several CCTV photos. He said in a cold voice, "No matter how far you run, I will find you." Meanwhile, Akash's colleague Riya had warned him over the phone, "If you take the car outside the city, there are checkpoints at the border—Rahul's influence is vast."
Akash said, "I know the way."
In his eyes, there was not only a sense of duty but also the shadow of an unknown love. In the dead of night, the truck stopped at an old motel. Neha was almost unconscious. Sidrat sat by the door, with traces of rain on her clothes and fear in her eyes. She knew that life would never be the same again. Akash was giving Neha a saline drip and said softly, "She will survive, but she needs a few more days of rest."
Sidrat asked, "Who are you, Akash?"
Time seemed to stop for a moment. Akash looked at her and said, "The one who wants to keep your love alive, even though I myself loved her once." Sidrat was startled. In the silence, a sense of respect and incompleteness mingled.
But before that night ended, a car's headlights shone from behind the motel—Rahul's men had arrived. Akash looked out the window and said, "They've found us. We have to leave now."
Sidrat lifted Neha onto her shoulder, and the three of them rushed towards the truck. Behind them, there were gunshots, the sound of shattering glass, and Rahul's shouts—"Run, as fast as you can!" That run was a run for freedom, and also a run towards destruction.
Chapter-5
It was almost the end of the night, a red glow rising on the horizon. The roar of the truck's engine tore through the silent dawn as it sped out of the city. Neha was unconscious, a pale shadow on her face. Sidrat sat with her hand resting on Neha's chest. Akash silently watched the road ahead, but his gaze was heavy—filled with an unknown apprehension. In the distance—the headlights suddenly flashed on the dusty roadside. Rahul's black jeep was roaring towards them. Behind it were two motorcycles, with armed men. Akash shouted, "They've arrived!"
Sidrat turned and saw the rear window shattering from bullet impacts. "Get down!" Holding Neha to her chest, Sidrat jumped towards the bushes by the roadside. Akash followed them. The truck was on fire, the silence of the night shattered by smoke and screams. Rahul stopped the car and got out. His eyes held anger, hatred, and a kind of unbearable coldness of defeat. He shouted, "Neha! Come out! Your lover will be finished today." Sidrat did not answer from behind the rocks.
Akash said in a low voice, "If we go through the forest this way, there's an old ashram. We can hide there."
Sidrat nodded. But as they tried to climb up from behind, one of Rahul's men came face to face with them. A struggle ensued. Gunshots rang out in the air. In a moment of intense struggle, Akash snatched the gun from the man's hand and threw it to the ground, but was shot in the chest and fell. Neha woke up at the scream—"Akash!"
She ran and took Akash's head in her lap. Akash whispered, "Keep her alive... she is more yours than mine..." Then his breathing silently ceased. Sidrat closed her eyes and turned her face away. Neha trembled, but held herself together despite the pain.
In the distance, Rahul was firing shots, and as dawn broke, the forest engulfed them like darkness. Amidst the scent of rain-soaked leaves, the smoke, and the shadow of death, the last trace of a life faded away.
Episode-6
In their last sleep in the forest, they understood that escaping and surviving was no longer possible.
Akash's body was buried there; Sidrat himself sat beside the grave for hours. Neha's eyes were empty from endless tears. But as morning broke, the silence of the forest was shattered by police sirens. Armed teams surrounded them from all sides. Rahul stood in the front row, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. "Surround them," he said in a low voice.
Before Sidrat could understand anything, handcuffs were put on him, and two officers dragged Neha up. Neha said nothing. She only looked at Sidrat once—there was no fear in her eyes, only a melancholic peace. As if she had understood that this was her final path. At the police station, Neha was kept in a separate room. Rahul went there and said, "You wanted love? Now see how deadly love can be."
Neha raised her head and replied, "Love doesn't kill, your arrogance did." Rahul paused for a moment, then said in a cold voice, "Tell the court the value of your words." The trial began within a few days.
Newspaper headlines—"Businessman's daughter accused of murder along with her lover."
The blame for Akash's death was placed on Neha and Sidrat. Rahul's men were made witnesses.
Standing in the stifling hot air of the courtroom, Neha slowly said, "I am guilty, but not of murder—of love." The sound of the judge's gavel seemed to freeze the entire world. The announcement came—a sentence of life imprisonment, which in a sense was as harsh as a death sentence. A separate verdict was read for Sidrat—"Transfer to a separate prison for security reasons." Neha smiled faintly. After a fleeting glance at Sidrat, she said, "At least we will experience the end together."
Tears like rain streamed down the corners of her eyes. That day, as she was being taken to the police van after leaving the court, the memory of Akash, Sidrat's face, and the smoke of her broken heart all merged within her. Episode-7
An ancient prison in India, the walls permeated with a damp, musty smell, the air heavy with the touch of confinement. Neha is kept alone in a narrow cell. Sunlight falls on the floor through the bars of the window—that light is her only companion. On the first day, Neha simply sat in silence. Unfamiliar women were talking in the adjacent cells—about why they were there, how many years their sentences were, who had killed whom. To Neha, these weren't just stories, but reflections of the sordid realities of life. One day, the jail superintendent came and said, "Your letter has arrived."
Neha was startled and took the letter. The familiar handwriting—Sidrat's. The letter read,
"Every day when the sun sets, I look at the sky beneath which you too are living. If death comes, I only want my name to be on your last breath." Neha clutched the letter to her chest, but as soon as she closed her eyes, she remembered Akash's face—the one who had wanted to protect her until the end of her life. She wondered, isn't love meant for more than just one person? Hadn't Akash also become a part of this love? Night falls in the prison. In the distance, the bell rings, marking the guard's patrol. When she can't sleep, Neha sits by the window and looks at the sky. The moon is faintly visible behind the clouds, just like her—half light, half darkness. The next morning, a new prisoner arrived in her cell – a village girl named Ruby, with despair in her eyes. Neha spoke to her, smiled gently. It was as if she touched a part of her own broken self through Ruby's innocent gaze. The days pass in a monotonous routine: work, bread, interrogation, silence. But every night, the letters sent by Sidrat became Neha's source of strength to face a new day. Then one day, news arrived—Sidrat was being transferred to a central prison in another state.
That night, Neha cried out for the first time. Her voice echoed against the prison walls, like a suffocated soul rising from beneath the earth. And outside, on that same night, Sidrat sat by his cell window in the moonlight and wrote another long letter for Neha—one that she might never receive while he was alive.
Episode-8
Two months have passed. The hands of the prison clock seemed to be stuck in a monotonous rhythm. Neha was no longer as quiet as before—she had now learned to have conversations within herself. One day Ruby had said, "You are not like the others. Hope still shines in your eyes."
Neha smiled and said, "Not hope, but a promise." From that day on, she silently began to plan—not a plan to return home, but a plan to return to Sidrat. At night, the prison gate guards change. Neha knew that at that time, the security on that side was the weakest. She didn't want to take Ruby with her. On the night of their farewell, she said, "You stay here. What's outside is not peace—it's just more darkness."
Ruby burst into tears. "Will you find happiness there?"
"No," Neha replied, "but if love dies, people don't survive either." Meanwhile, on that same night, in another distant prison, Sidrat sat by the light of a candle. In his hand was a piece of paper, every word of which seemed to be written in blood. He wrote—
"Neha, if you ever manage to get out, come to the mango tree in the garden, where we first laughed. I believe that even if death comes, I will see that place before it does." Before he could send the letter, there was the sound of gunfire outside the gate. A rebellion inside the prison—a group of prisoners were trying to escape. A daring thought suddenly arose in Sidrat's mind. Perhaps this was the opportunity. At the same time, another storm was brewing for Neha. It was raining, the walls were wet and slippery. The grill of the only window on the staircase had been loosened earlier. She was climbing silently, holding her breath. The sky seemed to be unleashing a storm in two different prisons simultaneously. As Neha was about to climb over the wall, a flashlight beam fell on her face from behind. "Stop right there!" the guard's voice shouted.
Neha ran, not crying, but smiling. She knew this was not a journey for survival—but the final journey of love. That night, the thunder and the sound of gunfire mingled, tearing through the darkness. The morning newspaper headline read:
"Captive injured in escape attempt, rescued in an unconscious state." Neha's body lay on the hospital bed, her eyes closed, but a strange peace seemed to rest on her lips.
Chapter-9
The hospital's glass windows were wet from the incessant rain. The doctors had said that Neha's internal bleeding was so severe that she wouldn't regain consciousness easily. But she seemed half-awake, half-asleep—standing on the boundary between two worlds. In the soft light between dream and reality, Sidrat's face appeared. Neha tried to walk, as if to touch him, but couldn't. A whisper, almost lost in the flow of blood from her lips, escaped—"I'm coming..." At that very moment, far away, Sidrat was sitting in a mountain prison in West Bengal. Suddenly, a guard called him. In his hand was an old envelope from the postman, addressed in smudged ink: 'Recipient: Sidrat Islam'. Sidrat opened it—a letter. Written by Neha, several weeks ago. "Even if I die, don't blame fate. I am under your sky, just a little distance away. If anyone says you are alone, don't believe them. Because without my love, this world too will not survive." As Sidrat read, he looked towards the window. It was raining, but even in that rain, the sunlight seemed to be playing hide-and-seek. A small smile appeared on his face—tears in his eyes, but a strange peace in his heart. "Neha," he said softly, "you remained within me." Then he pressed the letter to his chest. Outside, a storm had begun. The electric lights of the mountain prison went out. The candle flame in the cell flickered for a few moments in the trembling air, then went out forever. That night, a piece of paper floated on the water stream below the mountain—the last line of Neha's letter.
"Love is not death, it is eternal."
Episode-10
The grey light of dawn mingled with the fog. Time seemed to have stopped. A small river outside the city, the shade of trees on its banks, and the faint scent of damp earth in the air. In this silent solitude, another journey begins—unseen, yet familiar. Neha opened her eyes. Not light, but a gentle warmth touched her face. She didn't understand where she was. There was no prison cell around her, no smell of a hospital. She was standing by the river, dressed in white, with cold, wet grass beneath her feet. She heard a voice from behind—"You have come."
She turned around. Sidrat, just as before, with that same old gentle look in her eyes. They were silent for a while. No questions—only a familiar peace.
Neha stepped forward and took Sidrat's hand. "Is death the end?"
Sidrat smiled softly and said, "No, this is the beginning of our life." The clouds were parting in the sky, and the first rays of the sun were shimmering on the river. They walked slowly, crossing to the other side, touching the water. The world was left behind—the unfinished letter to the sky, Ruby's prayers, the iron doors of the prison—everything. But on the other side, white flowers bloomed in a vast field. The air was fragrant, and there was a flood of light. Neha stopped and said, "What kind of place is this?"
Sidrat replied, "This is the world of love—where death is merely a path, not the end." Neha rested her head on her shoulder. A flock of birds was flying in the clear blue sky in the distance. And looking towards the earth, one can see two names inscribed side by side on two old graves:
Neha Islam (1990–2025)
Sidrat Ahmed (1987–2025)A letter placed on their graves swayed in the damp breeze, its last line still legible—
"When love is immortal, death is merely crossing to the other side of the river."
"The End"
- Md. Anis