July 5, 2025 – Night, 11:03 PM
The city outside Reyansh's window was asleep — or pretending to be. A few cars, a flicker of neon from the nearby chai stall, and the hum of summer hanging in the air. But inside his room, something was different. There was a letter glowing on his screen. Not from a stranger anymore. From Tara.
He read it twice. Then a third time, slower. She had called his letter warm — like chai. Said she smiled. Said she felt seen. And for the first time in a long time, Reyansh felt… less alone.
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✉️ Letter 7 — From Reyansh
Sent: July 5, 2025 – 11:41 PM
Hey Tara 🌙
I can't explain what your letter did — but something inside me softened. You know that strange peace when rain hits the roof at night? That's what reading your words felt like. And the fact that you said my letter made your evening warmer… That means more than you know.
I smiled at how casually you said, "teeth, lectures, coffee and silence" — like that wasn't a whole life. I admire people like you — who want to heal others even while learning to heal themselves. And maybe that's what we're both doing here — slowly trying to understand the broken parts without rushing to fix them.
> "Healing is not linear."
You wrote that. And now it's living rent-free in my mind.
Honestly, I didn't expect a reply. And definitely not one this kind, this open, this… kindred. I don't think we're strangers anymore, Tara. I think we're just two people meeting in a letter-shaped space, where silence doesn't feel empty anymore.
—
Okay, small confession: I smiled when you said you don't know gaming but want to learn. Deal. I'll be your awkward digital teacher. 😅 (Though I should warn you — I'm better at writing emotions than winning battles.) And molar lectures? Yikes. I'm already feeling secondhand stress.
But I'll trade you: I'll send you chill playlists for your long study nights, you send me pictures of sunsets from your window. Deal?
Also — you said you stared out your window with music on, letting yourself feel. That's powerful, you know? Not a lot of people let themselves be still. I respect that about you.
—
You asked what gives me peace. Right now? It's this letter.
Take care, Tara. Take pauses. And thank you for replying like that — not just with words, but with honesty.
Until next time,
— Rey
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Narrator Voice (continued)
That night, Reyansh didn't overthink. Didn't rewrite. Didn't doubt. He just wrote. Because something about Tara's voice made him trust the silence again.
And not all beginnings need fireworks. Some start in soft exchanges, between two tired souls who found rest in each other's letters.