All About You

Chapter 1 – The Engagement Announcement
Mira learns that Aarav, her closest friend and the man she secretly loves, is engaged. Her world crumbles, though she forces a smile in front of him.

Chapter 2 – First Letter: If Only You Knew
She writes her first unsent letter, confessing all the love she has hidden. She pours out feelings she will never speak aloud.

Chapter 3 – Memories Etched in Ink
Through her letters, she revisits their shared past: study sessions, rainy days, laughter that once made her believe he might feel the same.

Chapter 4 – Second Letter: Why Not Me?
Her jealousy and grief spill onto the page. She questions herself—why wasn’t she enough?

Chapter 5 – Accidental Encounters
Mira keeps running into Aarav while he prepares for the wedding. Every moment is bittersweet; every smile feels like a goodbye.

Chapter 6 – Third Letter: Almost Confession
A sleepless night leads to a letter written with trembling hands. She nearly delivers it but stops, afraid of ruining his happiness.

Chapter 7 – The Invitation Arrives
The wedding card arrives. She clutches it to her chest, torn between attending or staying away.

Chapter 8 – One Last Evening
They share a spontaneous evening together before his wedding—old jokes, new silences, and emotions that neither dares to speak.

Chapter 9 – The Box of Letters
Mira reads through every letter she wrote. In tears, she considers burning them but instead keeps one—the final letter.

Chapter 10 – All About You
On the wedding day, she attends with quiet dignity. That night, she writes one last letter—not to Aarav, but to her ex-boyfriend Rohan, the one who once loved her truly. In it, she apologizes for never valuing what they had, for chasing someone who never belonged to her. She admits that she now understands what it feels like to be on the other side of unspoken love.

 

 

 

Chapter 1 – The Engagement Announcement

Mira had always imagined the day Aarav’s engagement would be announced.
In her imagination, she would be sitting across from him in their favourite café, sipping coffee while he leaned in and whispered, “It’s you. It’s always been you.”

Instead, she heard it from his sister over a phone call.

“Mira di! Aarav’s finally engaged. Can you believe it?” Ishita’s voice was bubbling with joy. “Her name is Naina. She’s perfect. You’ll meet her soon!”

Mira pressed the phone tighter against her ear, her knuckles whitening. Her lips curved into a smile, but her chest felt like someone had slipped a shard of glass inside it.

“That’s… wonderful,” she said, her voice almost steady. “He must be so happy.”

“Oh, you should see his face!” Ishita laughed. “He’s been glowing like a fool all week.”

Mira laughed too, though it cracked at the edges. “He deserves it,” she whispered, more to herself than to Ishita.

When the call ended, she sat frozen on her bed, staring at the pale blue wall in front of her. The silence pressed in, heavy and suffocating. She waited for the tears to come, but they didn’t—not yet. Instead, there was just a hollow ache, like her body had forgotten how to breathe properly.

Later that evening, Aarav himself called. His voice was brighter than she had ever heard it.

“Mira! Guess what? I wanted to tell you in person, but Ishita beat me to it.” He chuckled, and she could picture the dimples cutting into his cheeks. “I’m engaged. Her name’s Naina, she’s… she’s everything, Mira. I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

She forced a laugh, pressing her nails into her palm until it hurt. “Congratulations, Aarav. I’m so happy for you.”

And strangely, part of her was. She had always wanted him to be happy. She just never thought his happiness would come with someone else’s hand in his.

He rambled on about Naina—her smile, her laugh, how kind she was—and Mira listened, murmuring polite responses while her throat burned. Every word felt like a nail hammered into her heart.

When he finally hung up, Mira fell back onto her pillow, staring at the ceiling. The tears came then, hot and merciless, slipping into her hairline.

That night, she opened her drawer and pulled out a notebook she hadn’t touched in years. The pages smelled faintly of dust and forgotten dreams. She flipped it open, uncapped a pen, and for the first time in forever, she began to write.

Dear Aarav,
Today, you told me you’re engaged. I smiled and said I was happy for you. And in some twisted way, I am. But, Aarav… it should have been me. It was always supposed to be me. You’ll never read this, but if you did, you’d know the truth I’ve hidden for so long. I love you. I always have.

Her hand trembled as she scribbled the words, ink smudging where her tears fell. When she was done, she tore the page out, folded it carefully, and slipped it into a small wooden box on her desk.

She whispered into the darkness, “You’ll never know.”

And for the first time, the reality sank in: Aarav wasn’t hers. He never had been.

✨ End of Chapter 1

Chapter 2 – First Letter: If Only You Knew

Mira couldn’t sleep that night. The world outside was silent, but inside her chest, it felt like a storm was tearing through. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Aarav’s face lit with excitement, his voice echoing with words about Naina.

She turned on the lamp by her bed, the yellow glow spilling across her notebook. Her fingers traced the cover as if it were fragile glass. The wooden box on her desk already held the first folded page, like a secret too dangerous to breathe.

And then, almost without thinking, she picked up her pen and began to write again.

Dear Aarav,

If only you knew what you do to me. If only you knew how the sound of your laugh has been the rhythm of my life, how the way you say my name makes the world soften. If only you knew how long I’ve carried this weight inside me, smiling like it doesn’t crush me every day.

Do you remember when we skipped class to sit on the college terrace and watch the rain? You said the rain smelled like freedom. I wanted to tell you then—that freedom for me was simply being beside you. But instead, I laughed and said you were being dramatic.

If only you knew the truth that night. If only you knew…

Her pen scratched furiously across the page, each word pulling threads from her heart. She paused, staring at what she had written, and then pressed the pen down harder.

And now, you’ll marry someone else. She’ll know the things I never had the courage to say. She’ll hear your laugh in the morning and see your tired smile at night. She’ll hold the hand I’ve dreamed of holding for years. And I’ll clap politely, smile in photographs, and pretend it doesn’t feel like dying.

If only you knew.

The last three words stood there, black and raw, as though they were staring back at her. Mira’s shoulders shook. She dropped the pen and pressed her palms to her face, tears slipping through her fingers.

Minutes—or maybe hours—later, she folded the letter carefully. She didn’t crumple it, didn’t tear it. No, she treated it like something precious, something sacred. She slid it into the wooden box, resting it against the first one.

The box was small, but it already felt heavy with her silence.

The next morning, when she saw Aarav’s name flash across her phone, she answered with her practiced cheer.

“Good morning, Mira! Guess what—Naina and I picked out the wedding venue!”

“That’s great,” she said, forcing brightness into her tone. “Where?”

He launched into details—about the hall, the garden, how perfect it would be in spring. Mira listened, responding at the right places, her voice steady. If he noticed the hollowness in her laughter, he didn’t say anything.

When the call ended, she sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the silent phone. The words he’d spoken were already blurring in her mind, but the weight in her chest grew heavier.

She glanced at the box on her desk. The letters were piling up, even though there were only two. Letters she could never send. Letters that would never be read.

For the first time, Mira realized what her story was becoming—not a love story, not even a tragedy, but a collection of unsent words.

✨ End of Chapter 2

Chapter 3 – Memories Etched in Ink

The wooden box was beginning to look like a diary that refused to be read. Two letters lay folded inside, each carrying pieces of Mira she could never give away. She told herself she wouldn’t write again—that it was pointless, that she had already said enough.

But memories don’t listen. They arrive uninvited. And by the next evening, she was seated at her desk once more, pen hovering over an open page.

Dear Aarav,

Today I remembered the first time we met. It wasn’t love at first sight—not in the way movies tell it. You were late to class, stumbling in with your bag half-zipped, hair all over the place, and a sheepish grin. I remember rolling my eyes, thinking you were another arrogant boy who never took anything seriously.

And then you asked me for a pen. You smiled like I was saving your life with that tiny piece of plastic. I don’t know why, but that smile stayed with me. Maybe that was the first moment. Not love, not yet—but something soft enough to grow.

Mira paused, closing her eyes. The memory was so vivid she could almost hear his laugh echoing in the lecture hall.

She continued.

Do you remember the time we went to that food stall after class? You ordered three plates of pani puri and nearly choked because you tried to prove you could eat faster than me. I laughed so hard, my stomach hurt. And you laughed too, not because it was funny, but because you liked seeing me laugh. I knew it. I saw it in your eyes.

Why didn’t I say anything that night? Why didn’t I ask if you felt the same?

Her handwriting grew shaky. She set the pen down for a moment, pressing her fingers to her lips.

The truth was, she remembered everything.
The late-night phone calls about nothing.
The way he always made sure she got home safe, even if it meant walking her street in silence.
The inside jokes that belonged only to them.

To Aarav, they were fragments of friendship. To Mira, they were the building blocks of love.

She picked up the pen again.

Do you know, Aarav, that every time you reached for my hand to cross the road, my heart would skip? You thought you were protecting me from traffic. You never knew you were protecting me from loneliness too.

You told me once that home wasn’t a place, it was a feeling. That day, I wanted to tell you—you are my home. But I laughed it off, said you sounded like a poet. If only you knew, Aarav. If only you knew.

The words blurred as her tears smudged the ink. She didn’t bother wiping them away. She let them fall, as though the paper could share her burden.

When she finally folded the letter, she noticed her hands were trembling. She slipped it into the wooden box, which now held three confessions, each heavier than the last.

Mira sat back, staring at the closed lid. It was becoming a vault of memories—memories Aarav would never know, memories that would remain hers alone.

And still, she couldn’t stop writing. Because every time she thought of letting go, another memory clawed its way back, begging to be etched in ink before it disappeared.

That night, as she turned off the light and lay in bed, Mira whispered into the darkness:
“You were my story, Aarav. Even if you never read it.”

✨ End of Chapter 3

Chapter 4 – Second Letter: “Why Not Me?”

The fourth letter wasn’t planned.

Mira had told herself she was done—three unsent letters were already too many. Three pieces of her heart sealed away in a wooden box that nobody would ever open. But heartbreak doesn’t care about self-promises. It breaks rules, leaks out of every crack, and demands release.

That evening, she saw Aarav’s latest post on social media. A photograph of him and Naina at a bookstore, their heads tilted together, smiling. His caption read: “Found my forever reading partner.”

The words hit her like a blade. Mira’s chest tightened. His forever.

She remembered how many times she had dragged Aarav to bookstores, how he used to tease her for getting lost in the aisles, how he would finally pick up a random book just so she wouldn’t feel guilty for making him wait. That was ours, she thought bitterly. And now, it was hers. Naina’s.

Her hands trembled as she opened her notebook again. Ink bled into paper with every stroke, raw and furious.

Dear Aarav,

Why not me? Tell me—why wasn’t it ever me? Was I not enough? Not pretty enough, not soft enough, not the kind of girl you could imagine a forever with? Because I tried, Aarav. God, I tried.

I was there through your failures, through your restless nights, through the times when even you didn’t believe in yourself. I laughed at your worst jokes, held your secrets like sacred things, cheered for you when no one else cared. And yet—when it came to love, when it came to choosing someone for your life—you looked right past me.

Why not me?

She stopped, her vision blurring with tears. Her pen scratched harder against the paper, almost tearing it.

Do you know what it feels like, Aarav, to be invisible in plain sight? To love so loudly in silence that it drowns you, but still have to smile when you talk about her?

I keep telling myself I’m happy for you. That’s what you do when you love someone, right? You want them happy—even if it’s not with you. But every time I see her name on your lips, every time I see her hand in yours, it kills me. I’m grieving for something that never even belonged to me. How do I explain that kind of loss?

Her tears splattered onto the paper, staining the words, but she didn’t stop.

Maybe if I had said it sooner—just once—you would’ve looked at me differently. Maybe if I hadn’t been so afraid of ruining us, I wouldn’t have lost us anyway. Maybe, maybe, maybe. That word is my curse now.

All I want to know is—why not me, Aarav?

She ended the letter abruptly, her hand too heavy to write more. Folding the paper carefully, she placed it into the wooden box, on top of the others.

Her chest felt lighter, but also emptier. Like she had poured too much of herself onto the page and had nothing left to carry.

She lay on her bed afterward, the question echoing through her like a chant:
Why not me? Why not me?

But the silence of her room had no answers.

✨ End of Chapter 4

Chapter 5 – Accidental Encounters

Mira always thought fate had a cruel sense of humour.

The week after she wrote her fourth letter, she told herself she would avoid Aarav as much as possible. Calls could be dodged, messages could be answered late, and excuses could be made. She needed space, a chance to patch up the parts of her heart that still believed it could survive this.

But fate had other plans.

It happened on a Saturday afternoon. Mira was at the florist’s, picking up lilies for her mother’s birthday, when she heard the familiar sound of his laugh. Her spine stiffened instantly. She didn’t need to turn around to know it was him.

“Excuse me, how many roses can fit in this?” Aarav’s voice carried through the shop, playful as always. “Don’t look at me like that—I’m new to this romantic-husband-to-be thing.”

The florist chuckled, wrapping a bunch of red roses. And then, as though the universe was determined to twist the knife, Aarav spotted her.

“Mira!” His face lit up like the sun. He excused himself from the counter and walked toward her, roses in hand. “What are the chances? Buying flowers too?”

She forced a smile, clutching her lilies tighter. “Yeah, for Mom. Birthday.”

“That’s sweet,” he said, his grin widening. “You’ll have to give her a hug from me.”

Mira nodded, pretending to be interested in the bouquet she held. She wanted to look anywhere but at the roses in his hand. Roses for Naina.

“Hey, you should come over tomorrow,” Aarav said suddenly. “Naina’s making dinner, and I told her you have to meet. She’s heard so much about you already.”

Mira’s throat tightened. She wasn’t ready—not for this, not for smiles across a table that belonged to someone else.

“I’ll try,” she lied smoothly. “I have some work deadlines.”

He frowned playfully. “You and your deadlines. One day I’ll steal your laptop just to make sure you spend time with me.”

Her heart clenched at his words—words he had no idea; were sharp in ways he couldn’t imagine. She wanted to say, you don’t have to steal time. I’d give you all of mine. But instead, she smiled. “You’d never survive without your tech support.”

They laughed. For a moment, it was almost like before—like the world hadn’t tilted, like Naina didn’t exist. But the roses in his hand kept dragging her back to reality.

That night, she returned home and immediately opened her notebook.

Dear Aarav,

Today, I saw you at the florists. You were buying roses for her. Do you know what that did to me? I’ve loved you so long that even flowers feel like betrayal. Isn’t that pathetic?

You invited me to dinner tomorrow. You want me to meet her, smile at her, welcome her into your life. And I will, Aarav. Because I’m your friend, right? That’s all I’ve ever been. That’s all I’ll ever be.

But inside, I’ll be breaking. And you won’t notice. You never do.

She folded the letter and placed it into the wooden box, her hands trembling.

Lying in bed later, Mira whispered to herself, “One day, this will stop hurting.” But even as the words left her lips, she didn’t believe them.

✨ End of Chapter 5

Would you like me to move into Chapter 6 – Third Letter: “Almost Confession” (where Mira nearly delivers a raw, midnight letter to Aarav but stops at the last second)?

Chapter 6 – Third Letter: Almost Confession

The night was restless. Mira tossed and turned in bed, her blanket tangled around her legs. The ceiling fan hummed above her, steady and indifferent, while her mind raced in spirals that refused to slow.

She had seen Aarav again earlier that day—this time at the tailor’s, where he was fitting his wedding sherwani. He had insisted she come along, saying, “You’re the only one who’ll tell me the truth if I look ridiculous.”

And of course, she went. She laughed at his nervousness, teased him about the embroidered collar, even helped pin the fabric when it kept slipping. But inside, each detail of that sherwani felt like a thread sewing her lips shut.

The sight of him preparing for forever with someone else made her ache so fiercely that when she came home, she couldn’t contain it anymore.

By midnight, her notebook was open again.

Dear Aarav,

Tonight, I almost told you. I almost said it when you asked if the sherwani looked good. I wanted to say, “Everything looks good on you, even your worst days. Especially your worst days.” But I bit it back and laughed instead.

I almost told you when you smiled at me in the mirror. God, Aarav, you looked like a dream in that moment, and for a second, I wanted to believe you were mine. Just mine. But you never were, were you?

So here it is. The truth I’ll never let you hear: I love you. I love you in a way that makes breathing both easier and impossible. I love you in the spaces between my laughter and silence. I love you so much that it hurts to see you happy with someone else, and yet—some part of me is still glad you’re happy.

Her hand shook as she wrote the last line. For the first time, the words weren’t abstract. They were blunt, raw, undeniable: I love you.

She stared at the page, her heart pounding like a drum.

What if she gave it to him? What if she slipped it into his hand tomorrow, before he left for his next wedding errand? Would it change everything—or ruin everything?

For a terrifying, exhilarating moment, Mira imagined him reading it. She imagined him looking at her differently, reaching for her hand, whispering, it’s always been you.

Her chest surged with hope—and then collapsed under the weight of fear.

No. She couldn’t. If he didn’t feel the same, it would break not only her heart but their friendship, the one thing she still had. And if he did? It was too late. He was already promised to someone else.

With trembling fingers, she folded the letter and slipped it into the wooden box.

But that night, unlike the others, she didn’t fall asleep easily after writing. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the box, her heart screaming words her lips refused to say.

“Almost,” she whispered into the empty room. “It’s always almost.”

And somewhere deep down, she knew: that was the cruellest part of her love story—not that it ended, but that it never began.

✨ End of Chapter 6

Chapter 7 – The Invitation Arrives

It was a Thursday afternoon when the envelope arrived.

Mira was curled up on the couch, half-distracted by a movie she wasn’t really watching, when the doorbell rang. She opened the door to find a courier boy smiling politely, a stack of envelopes in hand.

“Delivery for Ms. Mira Sharma,” he said, handing her one.

She signed without thinking, muttering a distracted thank-you, and shut the door. The envelope was cream-colored, heavy in her hand, embossed with gold borders. Her heart knew before her eyes did.

Still, she opened it carefully, almost reverently, as though the weight of what it carried could break if she wasn’t gentle.

There it was.

Aarav & Naina
Together with Their Families
Invite You to Celebrate Their Wedding

The names were scripted in elegant curls, bound together by gold foil patterns. The date. The venue. The promise of forever.

Mira’s breath caught. The letters blurred, swimming behind the sting in her eyes. She pressed the card against her chest, as though holding it there would keep the pieces of her heart from scattering.

Her phone buzzed. Aarav.

She let it ring once, twice, three times before answering, her voice carefully light. “Hey.”

“You got it, right?” His excitement practically danced through the line. “The card? What do you think?”

Mira swallowed hard, forcing air into her lungs. “It’s… beautiful, Aarav. Really beautiful.”

“Good,” he said, relief colouring his words. “You’ll be there, won’t you? I don’t care what deadlines you have—you’re coming. You’re my person, Mira. I need you there.”

Her throat tightened around the words. I was your person. Once. Before she came. Before you looked at me and saw only a friend.

But she didn’t say it. Instead, she whispered, “Of course I’ll be there.”

“Perfect!” Aarav laughed. “I’ll see you soon. Thanks, Mira. Really.”

The call ended.

Mira sat on the couch with the card in her lap, staring at it until the letters blurred again. She wanted to scream, to tear it apart, to burn it until nothing remained but ash. But she couldn’t. It was his happiness. His beginning. And even if it ended her, she couldn’t destroy it.

That night, she wrote again.

Dear Aarav,

Your wedding card arrived today. I held it in my hands and tried to smile, but all I wanted to do was tear it apart. I wanted to scream until the universe heard me. But instead, I told you it was beautiful. Because that’s what I do, right? I swallow the truth and serve you my silence with a smile.

You called me your person. Once upon a time, those words would’ve been enough to light up my whole world. But now? Now, they feel like a cruel joke. I was your person, Aarav—but not the one you chose. Not the one you’ll vow to love forever. Just the safe one. The dependable one. The friend.

And I will come to your wedding. I’ll wear my prettiest smile and clap at the right moments. I’ll stand in the crowd and watch as you promise someone else everything I prayed for. And you’ll never know that while you’re beginning a forever, I’ll be ending mine.

Her pen dropped, her tears soaking the paper. She folded it carefully, added it to the wooden box, and closed the lid with trembling hands.

Mira whispered into the silence, “How do I survive this, Aarav?” But the box, like always, stayed silent.

✨ End of Chapter 7

Chapter 8 – One Last Evening

Two days before the wedding, Mira’s phone buzzed with a message from Aarav:

“Hey, can you step out for a bit? I need a break from all this wedding chaos. Just one last chai together before everything changes?”

Her heart thudded. One last chai. She stared at the words for a long moment, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. She should say no. It would only make the goodbye harder. But when had she ever been able to say no to him?

“Give me ten minutes,” she replied.

They met at the small roadside tea stall near their old college. The owner still recognized them, smiling warmly as though no time had passed. Aarav was already there, leaning casually against the counter, his sherwani measurements still pinned on a slip of paper in his pocket.

When Mira arrived, his face lit up. “You came.”

“Like I ever had a choice,” she teased, though her voice trembled faintly.

They ordered two cutting chais, just like they had done countless times during college days. For a while, it felt almost ordinary. Almost.

“So,” Aarav said, stirring his tea unnecessarily, “are you ready for the big day?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

He chuckled. “Honestly? I’m terrified. Everyone keeps saying marriage is this huge step, and I keep wondering if I’m going to mess it up.”

“You won’t,” Mira said softly, without thinking. “You’ll love her the way you’ve always loved everything—with your whole heart. That’s who you are, Aarav.”

He glanced at her then, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “You always believe in me more than I do myself.”

Mira forced a smile, sipping her tea to hide the ache in her chest.

They wandered after, walking through the empty lanes near campus. The night was cool, the air thick with nostalgia. They laughed about professors who used to terrify them, about the time Aarav had nearly set the chemistry lab on fire, about silly pranks and late-night study sessions.

For a while, Mira forgot to be sad. She forgot about Naina, the wedding, the letters tucked away in her wooden box. For a while, it was just them again—Mira and Aarav against the world.

But as the laughter faded, silence grew between them. Not the uncomfortable kind, but the heavy kind—the kind filled with words unsaid.

Aarav looked at her, his smile softening. “I’m really going to miss this, Mira.”

Her throat tightened. “We’ll still meet,” she managed. “Marriage doesn’t erase friendships.”

“True,” he said. Then, after a pause, “But it changes them.”

She didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Because in that moment, she felt the shift—the way everything between them was about to be rewritten.

When it was time to leave, they lingered at the crossroads. Aarav shoved his hands into his pockets, looking reluctant.

“Thanks for tonight,” he said. “I needed this.”

Mira nodded, her heart pounding against her ribs. She wanted to say it—everything. That she loved him. That she would never stop. That this night felt like a goodbye she wasn’t ready for.

But instead, she whispered, “Me too.”

He reached out instinctively, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. The touch was brief, innocent, but it left her trembling. For one reckless moment, she thought about leaning in, about closing the gap and changing everything.

But she didn’t. Neither did he.

And so, they walked away, in opposite directions, the night swallowing the words they would never say.

Back in her room, Mira pulled out her notebook. Her tears fell faster than her pen could move.

Dear Aarav,

Tonight was our last evening together before everything changes. I wanted to tell you everything, but the words died in my throat. So here it is: I love you. I love you so much it terrifies me. But I’ll let you go, because your happiness means more than my heart. I’ll keep this night like a secret pressed against my soul, a memory no one else will ever touch.

She folded the letter with shaking hands, adding it to the box. Then she whispered into the silence of her room, “Goodbye, Aarav.”

Though he hadn’t heard it, the goodbye was real.

✨ End of Chapter 8

Chapter 9 – The Box of Letters

The night before Aarav’s wedding, Mira couldn’t sleep.

The city was quiet, blanketed in a hush that felt almost holy, as though the world itself was pausing to witness what tomorrow would bring. But in Mira’s room, silence was anything but peaceful. It was loud, suffocating, filled with all the words she’d written but never spoken.

Her eyes kept drifting toward the wooden box on her desk. Small, unassuming, but heavier than any object she had ever owned. Inside it lay her heart in fragments—letters soaked in tears, each one a confession too dangerous to give.

Finally, unable to resist, she got up and pulled it closer.

The lid creaked as she opened it. The stack of folded papers stared back at her, fragile yet unyielding. With trembling fingers, she lifted the first one.

Dear Aarav,
Today, you told me you’re engaged. I smiled and said I was happy for you…

Mira’s throat constricted as she read the words she had written weeks ago. Her handwriting looked steadier than she remembered, but every line was raw, aching. She set it aside and picked up the next.

Why not me? Why wasn’t it ever me?

Her tears blurred the ink all over again. That letter had been her breaking point—jealousy and grief bound in black and white. Reading it now felt like reopening a wound that had barely begun to scar.

One by one, she read them all. Memories spilled out with every page: laughter over pani puri, late-night calls, the almost-confessions she had swallowed back. Each letter was a universe of “what ifs.”

By the time she reached the most recent one, her hands were shaking.

Tonight was our last evening together before everything changes. I wanted to tell you everything, but the words died in my throat…

She pressed the paper against her chest, sobbing quietly. The letters weren’t just words anymore—they were pieces of her life, proof of a love that had existed even if it was never returned.

For a long time, she just sat there, the pile of letters scattered around her like fallen leaves. Then a thought began to form, sharp and insistent: What if I burn them?

If she set them alight, the fire would consume everything she had never said. No one would ever know. She could pretend she had never loved him at all. Maybe then it would hurt less.

Her gaze shifted to the small candle flickering on her desk. The flame swayed gently, as if daring her.

Mira picked up one of the letters, her fingers tightening around it. She held it close to the candle, so close that the edges began to curl from the heat. Her breath caught. One small push and it would all be gone.

But at the last second, she pulled back, clutching the letter to her chest. “I can’t,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I can’t erase you, Aarav. Not like this.”

She refolded the papers carefully, tucking them back into the box as though they were sacred. Then she closed the lid, pressing her palms against it, sealing it shut not with a lock but with her own resolve.

The box would stay. The letters would remain. They were hers—her grief, her love, her truth.

Tomorrow, Aarav would begin a new chapter of his life. And Mira? She would carry this box of silence into hers.

✨ End of Chapter 9

Chapter 10 – All About You

The wedding day arrived with blinding sunlight and restless winds.

Mira dressed carefully, deliberately. She chose a pale blue saree—simple, understated, the kind that wouldn’t draw attention in the sea of bright silks and jewellery that would fill the hall. As she adjusted her earrings, her reflection stared back at her: composed on the outside, but hollow in the eyes.

At the venue, everything was golden—marigolds strung across the entrance, laughter echoing, the scent of incense thick in the air. Aarav looked radiant in his sherwani, a picture of joy as he welcomed guests. When his eyes found hers, he broke into that familiar smile, the one that still made her heart ache.

“Mira! You came.”

“Of course,” she whispered, returning his smile. Her voice didn’t falter, though her chest did.

She hugged him briefly, then stepped aside, watching as Naina entered—beautiful, graceful, glowing with the certainty of being loved. The rituals began, the music swelled, and the world clapped in celebration. Mira clapped too, her palms stinging, each cheer feeling like a goodbye stitched into the air.

That night, after it was all over, Mira returned home exhausted but wide awake. The silence of her room pressed in. The wooden box sat on her desk, waiting. She opened it slowly, running her fingers over the stack of letters she had written to Aarav. For a long time, she just stared at them.

Then she pulled out a fresh page.

But this time, she didn’t write Dear Aarav.

Her hand trembled, her breath uneven, but she wrote a different name instead.

Dear Rohan,

It’s been years since we spoke, but tonight, I thought of you. I thought of how you once loved me—simply, honestly, without conditions. And how I let you go, chasing someone who never belonged to me. I’m sorry, Rohan. Truly. Back then, I thought I wanted forever with someone else. I never stopped to realize that maybe, once, forever had already been standing in front of me.

Today, I watched Aarav get married. I smiled for him, I clapped for him, I even wished him happiness. But when I came home, I opened the box of letters I wrote for him—all the words I never dared to say. And I realized something: maybe I wasn’t writing to him all along. Maybe I was writing to the part of me that once had the courage to love without fear—the part that was with you.

I don’t know if this letter will ever reach you. I don’t even know if you’d care. Maybe you’ve moved on, maybe you’ve forgotten me. But if you haven’t, if even a small piece of you still remembers—I want you to know I see it now. I see you. And maybe, just maybe, it was always supposed to be you.

Mira set the pen down, her tears staining the ink. She folded the page slowly, carefully, and placed it on top of the letters to Aarav.

For the first time, she didn’t feel like the box was a coffin for her silence. It felt like a bridge—a way forward, a way back.

She didn’t know if she would ever send the letter. She didn’t know if Rohan still thought of her, or if he had built a new life far away from her shadow. But she knew this: tonight, for the first time, the story wasn’t all about Aarav.

It was about her.
It was about healing.
It was about a love she had overlooked but finally acknowledged.

Mira closed the box, whispered a quiet prayer into the night, and let her tears fall freely.

The ending was not neat, not tied with a bow. But maybe life wasn’t meant to be.

And so, the story of Aarav and Mira closed—not with a confession, not with a beginning, but with a letter addressed to someone else. A letter that might change nothing. Or everything.

✨ End of Chapter 10 — All About You