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 cursor blinked on Chaitali’s screen, taunting her to move on, to delete the email, or respond to it. But she couldn’t. She sat motionless at her desk, bathed in the faint glow of the computer, her mind flooded with memories. The third email—the most intimate yet—had arrived late last night, just after midnight. Now, in the stillness of her quiet apartment, Chaitali wrestled with the emotions it had awakened in her.
She re-read the email for what must have been the tenth time, her eyes tracing each word, each sentence that felt like a whisper from the past.
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Subject: No Words Needed
Chaitali,
Do you remember that night? The one where words became unnecessary. I think about it more often than I should. The way we sat together, saying nothing at all, yet saying everything. The quiet between us was never awkward. It was full—full of understanding, of trust, of love.
That night, in your apartment, the rain poured down outside. We watched the city through the foggy glass, and you leaned your head on my shoulder. I can still feel the weight of it, the softness of your hair against my cheek. You weren’t wearing anything fancy—just a simple white dress. But to me, you were breathtaking.
It wasn’t about what we said, but how we felt. Do you remember how my fingers brushed against yours? How we didn’t need to speak to know what was next? You looked at me, your eyes full of something I couldn’t quite name then. But I know now—it was love, wasn’t it?
That night was ours. We weren’t in a rush. There was no urgency, no desire to break the silence. We simply were, in that moment, lost in each other.
I think that’s when I realized what we had was rare, something others spend their whole lives searching for. I don’t know why I let it slip through my fingers. Maybe I was too afraid. Maybe I thought I needed something else, something more.
But now, I know. It was you, always you.
- Yours only...
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Chaitali closed her eyes, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. It had been years since she thought about that night, the night Mitul had just described with such tenderness, such detail that it was as if he had carried every moment, every glance, every breath with him all these years.
The rain. She could hear it again, just as it had been then, a soft patter against the windows of her old apartment, the one they used to spend so much time in together. It was before everything had become so complicated, before the arguments, before the ego battles, before the breakup. Back when their love felt invincible.
Chaitali remembered the feel of his hand, warm and steady as it grazed hers. She remembered the way he looked at her, as if she were the only person who mattered in the world. In that small apartment, amidst the gentle hum of the city and the rhythmic sound of the rain, they had found something pure—something neither of them could explain in words.
