Letters I Never Sent

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 ðŸ’” Title: "Letters I Never Sent"


✍️ A Story of Quiet Love and Unsent Words


I used to write her letters.


Not to post them. Not to give them. Just to let the weight of my heart fall onto paper.


Her name was Zoya — the kind of name you don’t forget even when the memory fades.

She was light. Not just the sunlight through the curtains — but the kind that finds its way into your chest and warms your coldest corners.


We were never really “together.”

We just existed... quietly, in the same room, in the same college, breathing the same air — and somehow, that was enough for me.



---


🕰️ The Moments That Never Felt Ordinary


She’d sit two seats away in the library, tucking her hair behind her ears, reading Rumi as if his words were meant for her alone.

I’d pretend to study, but really, I was memorizing the curve of her smile — the way her fingers moved, how she blinked slowly when she was lost in thought.


One day, she caught me staring and whispered:


> “You look at people like you’re writing stories about them.”




I smiled.


If only she knew how many stories I had written — all about her.



---


📜 The Unsent Letters


I wrote her a hundred letters.


One about the way her voice calmed my storms.

Another about how her laughter lingered in my dreams.


But I never sent them.


Because she was engaged.

To someone else.

To a name I never wanted to learn.



---


💌 The Last Letter


I still remember the last letter I wrote — the one I folded carefully and placed inside a book she once held. I left it in the library on purpose, knowing she might find it, or maybe never would.


It read:


> "I hope he watches you breathe in the morning,

The way I did from across the room.

I hope he knows your favourite songs,

The way I memorized your silences."





---


🌙 The After


She left.

Married.

Moved cities.


I remained — with a pile of unsent letters,

and a heart that only ever beat a little louder when someone whispered her name.



---


💬 Closing Line:


> Some love stories are never told aloud...

They just echo forever between the pages we never shared.


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