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Dear Ronald,

I hope you are doing well in the USA. I would like to thank you for encouraging me to write. You have always motivated me to pen down my feelings and today with the grace of God I am nominated as the best Author of India. There are 50 more but I want someone to vote for me. The world is a mean place though your social connections matter most. People are chasing Social media just to make many virtual friends but some friends are graceful and selfless but some are just competitors. But I trust you, Ronald, that we could be one who will vote for me with love. We were not made for each other but I have learned a lot in my 14 years of friendship with you.Some of my stories revolved around the incidents, I lived with you. We weaved the dreams and sowed the seeds of future but our love withered in the ashes of religion. I would request you to kindly vote and support me in my literature journey.

Yours

Sunaina.

Ronald wiped his tears. He still had Sunaina in his heart. He had her number but he never called. She never changed her number thinking he will call.

"He knew his days are numbered and she did not intend to make her a widow. He had run away from her when he was detected with Bone cancer. He lied to her that he got a better job, he was taking treatment at a hospital and that due because of the mercy of his Boss. But every-time she sent him her lines, he would read them."

She was a Romantic Poet in famous women writing circle called– "Storytellers group." He would admire them and kiss the print out, which his nurse friend gave him on request of Sunaina's every email.

"He could feel her smell and pray for her success. She was now a nominee in an Award. He just voted for her. This email was something that he was going to remember forever."

She too smiled with his name flashing on her laptop as voters list.

" Love is platonic, love is priceless. A few are lucky to find such love and I am one." Sunanina started her other story on her notepad.