In the Pages of Her Letters

Recap :-

After finishing his 10th grade, Krish stood at a crossroads — torn between choosing Diploma, his heart's choice, and Intermediate, the path chosen for him by family pressure. Sacrificing his own wish, he stepped into the strict world of Intermediate, silently carrying the weight of expectations. Amidst this new journey, a quiet presence named Maira began to notice him. Though Krish didn't know her yet, she started trying to connect — with soft glances and hidden letters — marking the beginning of a story that was still waiting to unfold.

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let us enter in to the story....

The rains had just begun to kiss the dry earth when Krish's days started feeling different — like someone had quietly flipped a page in the story of his life.

After their brief exchange in the library, Krish expected nothing more. Maira had spoken gently, her words carefully chosen, and he had responded with equally measured replies. He assumed that would be the end of it. But Maira had other plans — plans stitched not in loud declarations, but in folded paper and ink.

It began with a letter.

One afternoon, as Krish opened his notebook in the classroom, he noticed a small folded page tucked between the sheets. It wasn't there during lunch — he was sure of it. The handwriting was unmistakably the same as the one that had signed the note weeks earlier:

"Library today at 4? - Maira."

His heart thudded. He looked around, but everyone was busy chatting or copying notes. With quiet curiosity, he opened the letter.

"Hi Krish,

 I don't know if you'll read this completely, but I hope you do.

I just wanted to say... you're different.

You don't speak much, but your silence feels stronger than most people's words.

I noticed how you helped the old lab assistant last week, without anyone watching. I noticed your sketches.

I noticed... you. I am a fan of you.

Not because of this college, There is a very main cause for that...

 - Maira"

Krish stared at the words, unsure of what to feel. No one had ever written to him before — not like this. It wasn't flirtation. It wasn't teasing. It was observation — genuine and raw. He didn't know how to respond. So he folded the letter, placed it carefully into his diary, and said nothing.

The Letters Continue

From that day on, it became a rhythm.

Sometimes, the letter would be waiting in his bag when he returned from lunch. Other times, Maira would silently walk past him in the corridor, subtly dropping a folded note in front of him with a shy nod, saying, 

"It's for you. Read it when you are alone." 

And always, her eyes searched him for some kind of reply.

She never expected him to write back. She never pushed. She just kept writing.

Each letter was different:

One day, she wrote about how she loved poetry but didn't have anyone to share it with.

Another day, she shared her favorite childhood memory of making paper boats during monsoon.

Once, she wrote:

"Krish, I think your silence protects you from the world, but sometimes I wonder who protects you from your silence."

He read every single one of them. And each time, he felt something shift inside — a warmth he wasn't used to.

The Unspoken Rules

Their college was strict. Very strict. A boundary had been drawn between boys and girls — not just by rules, but by glares, expectations, and whispers. Talking could mean warning letters or worse, suspension. Krish had always obeyed. He had no interest in breaking rules or attracting attention.

But Maira had found a way around it. She respected the rules, yet found cracks to slip her feelings through. Her rebellion wasn't loud; it was beautiful and quiet — made of paper and ink.

Krish still had not spoken much to her. But her letters were beginning to do something to him. He started noticing her more in class — how she tied her hair, how she always chose the seat near the window, how she smiled even when the class was dull.

One day, she wrote:

"Sometimes, I wonder if we were in a different place — without these rules, without people watching — would we talk?

Would you smile more?

Would you ask me how my day was?

I would like to think yes."

He folded that letter slowly and kept it with the others. It now had a place — his hidden collection of emotions he was too scared to name.

The Stirring Inside

Krish was changing. Slowly. He found himself drawing again, this time sketches inspired by her letters.

One sketch showed a girl looking out a rainy window, holding a paper boat.

Another showed a boy sitting quietly under a tree, while a trail of flying letters circled around him like birds.

He didn't show them to anyone. But they filled his notebook like whispers, echoing what he couldn't say out loud.

And then came the day that changed everything.

It was late November. The weather had turned cool, and exams were near. Maira passed by him during a free period. She didn't speak. But she slipped a slightly thicker letter into his book and gave him a quick look — this one different. Almost nervous.

He waited until night to open it. His heart beat louder as he unfolded it.

"Krish,

I know I've been writing a lot. And I know you never reply, and that's okay. 

I just wanted to tell you...

I like you.

Not because you talk to me — because you don't.

Not because you impress anyone — because you don't try to.

But because you see the world differently.

 You make silence feel like a home.

Sometimes, when I write to you, I feel like I am writing to a future.

 A version of you who might one day open up, smile freely,

 and talk to me without fear.

 I'm waiting for that version.

 I hope he arrives.

 – Maira"

Krish read it twice. Then again.

He didn't sleep much that night.

Torn Between Fear and Feeling

Something about her words stirred him, but something else — deep inside — kept him afraid.

He thought about his past. About how hard it had been to even survive. How hard his mother worked. How much he had buried to keep moving forward.

Was he allowed to feel something now?

Was it okay to let someone in?

What if he disappointed her? What if she left?

He had no answers.

A Silent Gesture

The next day, Krish arrived a little earlier than usual. He waited near the corridor where Maira usually passed before the first bell.

She saw him, surprised. Before she could speak, he handed her a folded piece of paper. Just one line was written inside:

"I don't know what this is. But I haven't stopped thinking about your words. Thank you Maira."

Her eyes lit up — not dramatically, not like in movies — but like a quiet candle finding a spark.

She didn't say anything.

She didn't need to.

That day, Maira didn't leave a letter. She didn't have to. Her smile was enough.

Meanwhile, the Storms Grew

At home, things were slipping out of control.

Krish's father had started spending more nights away from home, showing up reeking of liquor and anger. His mother tried to keep it together, but Krish could see the cracks in her strength.

He wanted to tell someone. But he didn't.

He wanted to tell Maira.

But he still couldn't.

His world was shifting in two directions — one pulling him into a rare, blossoming light; the other trying to drag him back into a heavy, dark silence.

And he stood in the middle, still unsure of which side would win.

But for the first time, he wasn't standing alone.

What are you thinking???

In which direction krish would travel???

Let me know your opinion in the comment section....