TheOnceEnchanted

The Once Enchanted is a poignant journey through silent love, quiet prayers, and the ache of letting go. When two souls briefly cross paths, one remains captivated by the other in silence, holding onto a connection that could never fully bloom. Set against the backdrop of everyday office life, one girl finds herself drawn to someone she barely knows. A stolen glance, a shy wave, a birthday confession that changes everything — and yet, time and circumstances seem determined to keep them apart.

What began as simple admiration slowly morphs into a tangled web of feelings she can no longer ignore. She never meant to fall for him. But when he becomes everything her heart notices, it becomes impossible to pretend the feelings aren’t there.

But timing isn’t always kind. And sometimes, love isn't enough — even when it's never fully realized.

In The Once Enchanted, experience the bittersweet beauty of a love that was never returned, the heartache of unspoken words, and the fragile dance between holding on and letting go. Through raw letters, tender confessions, and the deep longing of what could have been, this is a story about the quietest loves that echo the loudest.

Who is the "once enchanted"? Who is the person at the center of a love that never got the chance to fully unfold? The answers are buried between each word, and you may find yourself wishing for what you can never have — just as the characters do.

Step into a world where the quietest hearts speak the loudest.

The Way I Love You Silently

She had spent hours trying to get his smile right.

The drawing sat on her desk, half-shadowed by the late afternoon light — a pencil sketch of his face, careful and soft, the way she remembered him on good days. She had erased and redrawn his eyes more times than she could count, not because they were wrong, but because they made her feel too much.

It wasn't just graphite on paper. It was a quiet confession.

And with it, she planned to give him a letter — the first real one she ever wrote for him.

She remembered whispering to herself as she began it: "Okay, so I'm finally writing this."

Not as a love letter, not exactly. Just... an honest letter. A piece of herself, wrapped in courage and folded neatly behind every line.

She poured everything into it — the gratitude she couldn't say out loud, the quiet admiration she had carried in secret for so long, the hope that maybe, somehow, they could be real friends.

It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't poetic.

She wrote about the perfume — how she hoped it made him smile, how it wasn't meant to confuse him or make him uncomfortable. She just wanted him to feel appreciated. To feel seen. She told him she understood if he didn't feel the same, that she wasn't expecting anything. She only wanted to be known — even just for a moment.

She signed it with shaky hands, folded it once, and placed it behind the drawing like it was something sacred.

But when the time came, she couldn't do it.

Because by then, he had started looking through her. Walking past her in the hallways like she was made of fog.

She waited by the door of possibility, letter in hand — but he never slowed down long enough for her to reach out.

And something in her told her not to force it.

What if it made him uncomfortable? What if it ruined whatever fragile, invisible peace still lingered between them? What if he threw it away — not out of cruelty, but indifference?

So instead of giving it to him, she slipped the letter and the portrait into a drawer at home, tucked beneath old notebooks and tangled earbuds.

She told herself it didn't matter. But every time she opened that drawer, it ached.

Because the truth was: That letter had been a piece of her heart, spoken in ink when her voice had failed her. And she would never know if it might've changed anything — even a little.

Maybe it was better that way. Maybe some letters are meant to stay unread.

Maybe some people are only meant to be loved from a distance — quietly, respectfully, with enough space for them to walk away without ever knowing they were the reason someone else found the courage to feel deeply.

Because even if he never read it — she would always remember the day she was brave enough to write it.

Chapter 4: The Letter I Never Gave You