L E T T E R S
I stood in front of the Veyansh mansion for a long time before finally pushing the door open.
The house felt... different.
Quiet.
Not the calm kind of quiet.
The kind that comes after something breaks and no one knows how to fix it.
I stepped inside slowly.
Everyone was there in the living room.
Neetha aunty sat on the sofa, her body bent forward as if grief itself had pressed her down. Her eyes were swollen, red and lifeless.
Arav uncle sat beside her, staring blankly at the floor. His face looked older somehow, like the past few days had drained the life out of him.
Neil and Aron stood near the window.
They looked just as broken.
Half-dead.
No one spoke.
No one even looked up properly when I entered.
The entire room felt like it was drowning.
I didn't say anything either.
I just walked past them.
My footsteps echoed faintly across the marble floor as I moved toward the long corridor.
The walls were covered with family photographs.
I had seen them before.
But today... they felt different.
Arav uncle smiling proudly beside his business partners.
Neetha aunty at charity events.
Neil and Aron at graduation ceremonies.
And Niya.
So many pictures of Niya.
At birthdays.
At family dinners.
Standing beside the brothers like she belonged there.
Smiling beside Neetha aunty.
Frame after frame.
Niya.
Niya.
Niya.
My jaw tightened slightly.
Because something was painfully obvious.
There wasn't a single photo of Ira.
Not one.
They removed all of her photographs in which she was in.
It was like she had never existed in this house.
Like someone had erased her.
I forced myself to keep walking until I reached the end of the corridor.
Her door.
Her room.
I stood there for a moment.
My hand slowly pushed it open.
The room smelled faintly of dust and something familiar that made my chest ache.
Inside... everything looked wrong.
Things were displaced.
A chair lay slightly tilted.
The bed sheets were still clutched and wrinkled like someone had left in a hurry.
Like someone had been crying there.
My throat tightened.
"Ira..." I whispered.
But the room stayed silent.
I walked slowly toward the bed before setting my bag down.
My hands felt heavy as I unzipped it.
Inside was something I had carried with me for years.
I pulled it out carefully.
A small diary.
Dark blue.
Locked.
My fingers trembled slightly as I took out the tiny key from my bag's pocket.
Ira's diary.
The memory came back immediately.
??????
"You're really going?" she had asked quietly.
I nodded, even though my chest felt like it was being torn apart.
Because it was better this way.
Better to leave than to stand there and watch the love of your life... loving someone else.
Then she suddenly turned and grabbed something from her table.
Her diary.
She held it out toward me.
"I don't have money," she said with a small, awkward smile. "They froze all my cards... so I can't give you any proper goodbye gift."
My brows furrowed.
"Ira-"
"But here," she said softly, pushing the diary into my hands.
"This is very precious to me."
Her fingers lingered on the cover for a moment.
"I've written poems in it since childhood. Until now."
Her voice softened.
"I want you to keep it... as a memory."
She paused.
"Because you were a good friend to me."
Friend.
The word stung more than it should have.
"Ira... are you sure?" I asked quietly.
She nodded.
Then she placed the small key in my palm.
And closed my fingers around it.
??????
I stood there for a long moment, the diary still in my hands.
My fingers traced the worn edges of the cover.
She had carried this everywhere.
Protected it like a secret.
And now... it was all that was left.
My chest tightened.
I looked around her room again.
Everything felt wrong.
Like the life had been pulled out of it.
My gaze slowly moved toward her desk.
The drawers.
A thought crossed my mind.
A bitter one.
If I left these things here... they would disappear.
Just like her photographs had.
Just like her place in this house.
My jaw tightened.
No.
I moved toward the desk and slowly pulled open the first drawer.
The wood creaked softly.
Inside were notebooks.
More diaries.
Different colors. Different sizes. Some worn out from years of use.
My breath caught.
She had written this much?
My hands carefully picked one up.
Then another.
I opened a second drawer.
More papers.
Folded carefully.
I pulled one out.
A letter.
My fingers slowly unfolded it.
The handwriting was hers.
Messy.
Emotional.
The ink slightly smudged in places like she had cried while writing.
I swallowed hard and opened another.
And another.
Letters.
So many letters.
Some unfinished.
Some folded again and again like she had tried to hide them.
Some addressed but never sent.
My chest felt heavy.
"How much did you keep inside you, Ira..." I whispered hoarsely.
I gathered them slowly.
One by one.
Carefully.
Like they were fragile pieces of her.
I placed them neatly inside the diary in my hands.
Then I opened my bag again and began collecting the rest.
Every diary.
Every letter.
Everything that belonged to her thoughts.
Because it was better that I took them.
Better than leaving them here where someone might throw them away like they threw away her existence.
My hands moved slowly but carefully.
When I finished, the bag felt heavier.
But my chest felt worse.
I zipped it closed.
My eyes took one last look at the room.
The wrinkled bed.
The silent desk.
The empty space where she should have been.
"I'm taking them," I murmured softly.
"Because someone should remember you."
The room didn't answer.
It never would.
I turned and walked out.
Quietly.
Just like I had entered.
And left the house behind.
I reached the graveyard just as the evening light was beginning to fade.
The sky above was pale gray, the wind moving softly through the tall trees surrounding the church. The place had become familiar to me now... painfully familiar.
In my hand were the flowers I always brought her.
Roses.
Red.
White.
And black.
Her favorites.
I walked the narrow path slowly until her grave came into view.
The same stone.
The same name carved into it.
Ira Veyansh.
My chest tightened the moment I saw it.
"I'm here," I whispered quietly.
Like I always did.
I knelt down and placed the roses carefully on the grave, adjusting them gently as if she could still see them.
"Your favorites," I murmured.
The wind brushed against my face.
Cold.
Silent.
I sat down beside the grave and placed my bag next to me.
My fingers moved quickly as I opened it.
The diaries.
The letters.
All of them were still there.
Her words.
Her thoughts.
Pieces of her that no one else had bothered to keep.
I picked up one of the letters and unfolded it slowly.
My eyes scanned the page.
Line after line.
Her handwriting looked rushed in places, almost desperate.
I swallowed hard.
Then I opened another.
And another.
My fingers moved faster now, unfolding letter after letter.
My eyes searching.
My chest tightening more with every page.
"Come on..." I whispered under my breath.
My breathing had grown uneven.
"Come on, Ira..."
I wasn't even sure what I was looking for anymore.
Maybe my name.
Maybe proof that I had mattered to her.
Even a little.
The letters rustled around me as I kept opening them.
Desperately.
Page after page.
Until suddenly.
My eyes froze on a line.
My name.
My heart skipped.
My fingers tightened around the paper.
There it was.
Written clearly in her handwriting.
For a moment, I stopped breathing.
Finally.
I had found it.
??????
Dear Reevan,
I don't even know why I'm writing this.
Maybe because some words are too heavy to say out loud. Maybe because I know you would understand them even if I never give this letter to you.
You know... people always say I'm difficult.
I'm rude, cruel and sometimes characterless too.
Maybe they're right.
But sometimes I wonder if anyone ever tried to understand why.
Except you.
Except Father Michael.. our priest.
And Shanon.
You three were the only people who ever spoke to me like I was a human being... not a mistake that needed fixing.
Everyone else was always too busy looking at Niya.
Niya this.
Niya that.
The perfect girl.
The sweet girl.
The girl everyone loved.
You never looked at me that way.
You never compared me.
You never told me to be like her.
And that's why... I think you became important to me without me realizing it.
Which is exactly why I'm scared now.
You're leaving.
And I know I shouldn't feel this sad about it. You were never mine to keep.
But the truth is... I am.
I'm very sad.
Because once you leave, there will be almost no one left who sees me without that judgment in their eyes.
At home... the only person who still treats me normally is Viaan.
He's kind to me.
He always has been.
But even he... even he looks at Niya sometimes with that same softness everyone else has.
And I can see it.
I can see the way the world slowly turns people toward her.
I don't blame him.
No one escapes that.
Still... it makes me feel like I'm standing in a room where everyone is slowly walking away from me.
One by one.
And I'm left behind.
So maybe this letter is selfish.
Maybe I shouldn't even write this.
But I wish you wouldn't leave.
Not because I want to stop you from living your life.
But because... for once, I don't want to lose someone who actually saw me.
Not the version of me people gossip about.
Not the version Niya's shadow creates.
Just...
me.
Even if the world calls me terrible.
Even if someday you believe them too.
I just wanted you to know something before you go.
You were one of the few people who were ever kind to me without expecting anything in return.
And that means more than you probably realize.
So if you really have to leave...
Then I hope you'll take my diary.
Keep it.
Because at least a small piece of me will exist somewhere with someone who didn't hate me.
And maybe... someday... when you read it...
You'll remember that once upon a time there was a girl named Ira who was trying very hard not to feel alone.
- Ira
Reevan's hands trembled as he carefully folded the first letter.
For a moment he couldn't breathe.
The wind moved softly around the graveyard, rustling the pages scattered beside him, but he barely noticed.
His fingers reached for another letter.
The paper looked older, the edges slightly bent like it had been opened and closed many times before.
Slowly, he unfolded it.
??????
Dear Reevan,
It's been three months since you left.
Three months, and somehow the mansion feels even bigger now... and emptier.
I didn't realize how much noise you brought into that house until it disappeared.
You used to argue with me.
Scold me.
Roll your eyes at me.
But at least you were there.
Now there's just silence.
Something happened again today.
Another scene.
Another accusation.
Another moment where everyone looked at me like I had already committed the crime before even speaking.
Niya was crying again.
You know how it goes.
The moment she cries, the entire world shifts toward her.
Mother was comforting her.
My brothers were glaring at me.
And I stood there like the villain everyone expects me to be.
Do you remember that day in the mansion when you took a stand for me?
When you told them they were being unfair?
When you told Niya to stop twisting the story?
Everyone looked shocked.
Like they had never seen someone defend me before.
Today... I kept waiting for that moment again.
But it never came.
Viaan was there.
For a moment I thought maybe he would say something.
Maybe he would tell them to listen to me.
But he didn't.
He stood beside Niya instead.
And suddenly I realized something.
You were the only one who ever did that for me.
The only one who didn't get blinded by her tears.
The only one who actually looked at me... not the version of me everyone else created.
I know you had your reasons for leaving.
And I know I shouldn't wish this.
But sometimes...
I wish you were still here.
Because when you were around... the house felt a little less cruel.
And I didn't feel so alone standing in those rooms.
- Ira
??????
Reevan sat there for a long time, the wind turning the edges of the papers in his hands.
He swallowed and reached for another letter.
The date written at the top made his chest tighten.
Six months.
He unfolded it slowly.
??????
6 months
Dear Reevan,
It's been six months since you left.
I thought by now I would get used to it.
But the truth is... the house still feels different without you.
Not quieter.
Just... emptier.
You used to argue with me so much that I thought you were annoying.
Now I realize you were probably the only person in that house who wasn't afraid to speak honestly.
Things haven't really changed here.
Niya is still perfect.
Everyone still loves her.
And I'm still the problem.
But something very strange happened today.
I caught myself defending you in front of someone.
They said you were rude and disrespectful.
And I said... no.
You were just honest.
I don't think anyone has ever defended you in that house before.
So I thought I would.
Just once.
I hope wherever you are... life is kinder to you than this house ever was to me.
- Ira
??????
Reevan's throat tightened.
His fingers moved to another letter.
The date was later.
Ten months.
??????
10 months
Dear Reevan,
Ten months.
I'm surprised I'm still writing these letters.
It's funny because I know you'll probably never read them.
But writing them makes it feel like I'm talking to someone who might actually listen.
Life here is... the same.
Nothing dramatic.
Just small things.
Small reminders that I don't really belong.
It's exhausting.
But sometimes it is the only way to survive a place that has already decided who you are.
Anyway...
I hope you're doing well.
I hope you're eating properly.
You forget meals when you're busy.
And you pretend you're not tired even when you are.
Someone should remind you of those things.
Since I can't anymore... I guess this letter will have to do, if by accident if you ever read it.
- Ira
??????
Reevan's vision blurred.
But one more letter remained in his hands.
The paper looked newer.
The handwriting shakier.
The date made his chest feel hollow.
Two years.
He slowly opened it.
Reevan sat there for hours.
Letter after letter lay scattered around him on the damp grass.
Eleven.
Twelve.
Maybe more.
All written to the same person.
All beginning with the same name.
Reevan.
Reevan.
Reevan.
His name.
His fingers trembled each time he unfolded a new page.
Each one carried pieces of Ira he had never seen before, her loneliness, her bitterness, her strange quiet hope that someone somewhere might still understand her.
The wind moved softly through the graveyard, but he barely noticed it.
Then his hand stopped on the final letter.
The paper looked newer than the rest.
The handwriting shakier.
Slower.
Almost tired.
His chest tightened as he opened it.
The Last Letter.
??????
Reevan,
It's been six years.
Six years since you left.
I don't even know if you remember me anymore.
Maybe you forgot about that annoying girl from the Veyansh mansion a long time ago.
Maybe that's better.
But things have been... more miserable lately.
Viaan hurt me again.
All over again.
And again it was because of her.
Niya.
Today he insulted me in public.
In front of everyone.
Just because I hurt Niya when she spoke about my character.
I know I shouldn't have done those things.
But sometimes when people keep pushing you... something inside just breaks.
He didn't even try to listen to me.
He just looked at me like everyone else does.
Like I was something dirty.
Something shameful.
He hasn't spoken to me properly for ten months now.
Ten months in the same house.
Sometimes he looks at me like he doesn't even recognize the girl he once loved.
Sometimes he threatens me with breaking up.
And every time he does... something inside me freezes.
Because if he leaves too...
Then I will truly have no one left in this world.
No one who ever loved me.
That's why I can't risk it.
Viaan is the only one who at least never disowned me.
He loved me for years.
And I loved him more than anything for years..
Even if that love feels different now... I hold onto it.
Because I have nothing else.
But sometimes...
Sometimes I wonder about something.
What if it had been you instead of Viaan?
What if you had stayed?
What if... you had been the one standing beside me all these years?
I know it's a foolish thought.
But I can't stop it sometimes.
Because I know one thing for sure.
You would never have treated me the way he did today.
You would have shouted at me.
Argued with me.
Maybe even scolded me.
But you would have listened first.
And that makes all the difference.
I think this is the most vulnerable I have ever been while writing these letters.
I actually hope no one ever reads this one.
But if by some strange accident you ever do...
Just know something.
If things between us had been like the things between Viaan and me...
I think life would have been a lot better.
Lot better with you than him.
I wish you were here.
I wish.
- Ira