Unheard, Unforgotten - Syllables of the Heart!
She thought she had left the past behind-until anonymous emails began flooding her inbox. Each message is more intimate than the last, filled with memories she thought she'd buried, emotions she believe...
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The day started like any other. Chaitali sat by her window, her fingers gliding across the keys of her laptop as she typed away, lost in the world she was building for her latest project. A breeze filtered through the curtains, bringing with it the smell of freshly watered plants, the only reminder of the outside world as she immersed herself deeper into her own.
Her apartment, tucked away on the top floor of an old building, was as quiet as always. She preferred it this way—isolated, away from the chaos of the city, her entire existence bound between these four walls. The world beyond seemed too intrusive, too busy for her carefully constructed life. Here, everything was under control. Every story she wrote, every word she crafted, was within her grasp.
But this morning, a subtle feeling of unease had taken root in her. She couldn’t quite place it. Maybe it was the way the shadows had shifted just a little differently in the room, or the way the silence felt too heavy, too still.
Pushing the unease aside, Chaitali clicked ‘Save’ on her document and leaned back, rubbing her eyes. She could feel the familiar tension building between her shoulders, a result of sitting too long in the same position, staring too long at the screen. She decided to take a break, making her way to the kitchen to pour herself a cup of coffee.
As the coffee brewed, she opened her inbox, half-expecting the usual sea of editorial updates, newsletters, and a few comments on her latest piece. But something caught her eye almost immediately.
There it was—a mail that seemed to stand out from the crowd. No subject line, no familiar sender. The email had arrived early in the morning, almost as if it had slipped quietly into her inbox before the world had fully woken up.
Her hand hovered over the mouse for a moment, hesitant to click. Anonymous emails were hardly uncommon in her line of work—fans, aspiring writers, and readers often reached out to comment on her articles or seek advice. But there was something different about this one. The address was unusual: unidentified@protonmail.com. It carried a sense of deliberation, like someone who didn’t want to be easily found.
Her curiosity piqued, she clicked.
Returning to her desk with the coffee in hand, she opened her laptop again, her eyes drifting back to the notification. Her email inbox, normally a sea of mundane work-related updates, now displayed something different—something unfamiliar.
Subject: Just a Thought
Sender: unidentified@protonmail.com
It wasn’t unusual for Chaitali to receive emails from strangers—being a freelance writer with a growing readership, she often received messages from readers who resonated with her work. But this one felt… odd. The address itself was untraceable, a generic Gmail handle with no name attached. No signature, no hint of the sender’s identity. Still, curiosity won over, and she clicked on it.
