She never believed in destiny.. only in 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴. Across libraries in India, she leaves pieces of her heart inside books. "𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬. 𝐒𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 she will never 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭" It's her quiet way of existing. Until one day... 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗲 writes back. The handwriting is 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘳 The words feel like they know her. And the dates don't make sense. Because his replies arrive from another timeline. While she is living today... he is living yesterday. Every letter pulls them closer. Every page bends time. And somewhere between ink and silence, they begin to fall in love. But loving someone you can never meet might be the most painful story ever written. Or maybe... 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘁𝗼 𝗿𝗲𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲.