July 5, 2025 – Late Evening
It wasn't love. It wasn't even a crush. But when she opened Reyansh's letter that afternoon, something shifted. Not in the world — but in her. He didn't sound like someone trying to charm her. He sounded like someone finally speaking in the language of real. And that? That made her smile — the kind you don't tell anyone about.
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✉️ Letter 6 — From Tara
Received: July 5, 2025 – 6:55 PM
Hii stranger 🙈
I just read your letter… and I can't lie, it made my evening warmer. I think you don't realize how effortlessly you write. Like — you're not trying to sound deep, but your words feel like a warm cup of chai after a long day. The kind of letter that stays.
You said you're still figuring yourself out — honestly, same. I'm 20, in my second year of dental college. My life is a mix of teeth, lectures, coffee (LOTS of it), and moments of silence where I ask myself if I'm doing enough. Healing people is what I dream of, but some days, I forget to breathe for myself.
I'm really glad you told me about your safe spaces. Coffee shops with no names? That sounds like poetry. And overthinking? You've got a twin right here. 😂
You asked about my quiet days. Well… I had one today. Nothing big happened. No fights. No breakthroughs. But I sat with my headphones on, stared out the window, and let myself feel without fixing anything. And weirdly — it felt good.
You said:
> "Maybe we don't have to become someone. Maybe we just have to let people see us."
That line? I read it twice. Then once more. Because it felt true. I think that's why I wrote this letter back so quickly. Because I feel like maybe, finally, someone isn't trying to fix me or judge me — just… understand me.
So yes — teach me your peaceful video games. I'll teach you how to survive 8-hour lectures on molars. 😭
Until your next letter, I'll be here — listening, smiling, hoping this connection keeps growing 🌻
— Tara
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Narrator Voice (continued)
Some letters feel like conversations. But this one? This one felt like sitting on opposite sides of a train window, smiling at someone you've never spoken to — but somehow, you know them.
In a world of fast replies and dry texts, this was slower. Softer. More human. And quietly, something beautiful was building. Not all love stories begin with sparks. Some begin with stillness.