In Sunday afternoon, and the house was unusually quiet. Raj had finally decided to tackle the storage room – a task he had been avoiding for months. With a heavy sigh, he rolled up his sleeves and stepped inside the dusty store room. The air was thick with the smell of old cardboard and forgotten memories. Boxes piled high on shelves held trinkets from a life that seemed like a lifetime ago.
He started sifting through the clutter, uncovering relics of the past – a broken wristwatch, a set of rusty keys, and an old cricket bat from his school days. Each item carried the weight of a memory. As Raj sorted through them, his mind wandered to simpler times, to when life felt less complicated.
An old wooden stool stood in the corner. It creaked as Raj dragged it across the floor. He climbed onto it, trying to reach the top shelf of an ancient wardrobe that hadn’t been opened in years. Just as his fingers brushed the edge of a dusty box, the stool wobbled under his weight.
Before he could steady himself, Raj lost his balance and tumbled to the ground.
Books cascaded down from the top of the wardrobe, landing in a messy heap around him. Dazed but unhurt, Raj sat up, rubbing his elbow and letting out a sigh of relief. His eyes scanned the scattered books until they landed on something that made his heart skip a beat – an old diary with a faded brown cover.
The sight of it stirred something deep within him, a familiar ache he had long buried.
He picked it up slowly, almost reverently. This was his diary, the one he had written in every day when he was younger, pouring his thoughts and feelings onto its pages. Raj hadn’t thought about it in years, but holding it now, the memories came rushing back.
He opened the diary, flipping through the yellowed pages. The handwriting was his, though messier than he remembered – full of the excitement and energy of youth. As he read through the entries, he found himself transported back to those days – the carefree laughter with friends, the anxiety of exams, and most vividly, the moments he had spent with her.
Neha.
Her name appeared over and over again in his diary. She had been the center of his world, his best friend, his love. They had met in college, and from the moment they connected, they were inseparable. Raj could still picture her face in his mind – her bright smile, the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed, the way she always knew how to make him feel better, no matter what was wrong.
He turned another page, and something slipped out, landing softly on the floor. Raj bent down and picked it up, unfolding it carefully. It was a letter, worn and yellowed with age, and his heart clenched as he recognized his own handwriting.
The letter was addressed to Neha.
Dear Neha,
I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. I don’t know how to say this in person, so I’m writing it here. I’ve fallen in love with you. I don’t know when it happened or how, but I can’t stop thinking about you. Every time I see you, my heart feels like it’s going to burst. I’m scared, Neha, because I don’t want to lose what we have. But I also can’t keep pretending that I don’t feel this way. You’re my best friend, and I love you.
Raj
Raj closed his eyes, the weight of the letter pressing against his chest. He had written this letter all those years ago, but he had never given it to her. He had been too afraid of what might happen if he did – too afraid of losing her. So, he had kept the letter hidden, just like the feelings he had never fully expressed.
But they had ended up together anyway. College turned into late-night walks, shared dreams, and promises of forever. They had gotten married, and for a while, life had been beautiful. Neha’s laughter had filled their home, and they had built a life together, one moment at a time.
Raj found himself lost in those memories again – the way Neha would laugh at his terrible jokes, her laughter lighting up even the darkest days. He remembered how she would always bring him chocolate ice cream whenever he was upset, knowing that it would instantly lift his mood. She was the one who could calm his anger with just a smile, the one who always said sorry even when it wasn’t her fault, just to keep the peace.
But life had a way of changing things. Time, once their ally, became their enemy. The little things that had once brought them closer started to drive them apart. The laughter faded, replaced by silence. Arguments that had once been rare became a regular occurrence. And somewhere along the way, they stopped saying sorry. Pride got in the way, and neither of them wanted to be the first to reach out anymore.
Fifteen years of marriage had worn them down. The love that had once felt invincible began to crumble under the weight of unspoken resentments and unhealed wounds. Eventually, the inevitable happened.
They divorced.
Raj sat in the storage room, the letter still in his hand, feeling the sharp sting of regret. He had lost her. The girl who had once been his world was now just a memory, a chapter in a book that he could no longer rewrite.
He wondered what might have been different if they had held onto the things that mattered – if they had kept saying sorry, kept reaching out, kept fighting for each other. But life didn’t offer second chances, only lessons.
Raj carefully folded the letter and tucked it back into the diary. He couldn’t change the past, but he could remember it. As he stood up, brushing the dust from his clothes, he realized that even though they were no longer together, Neha would always be a part of him. The love they had shared, the moments they had lived – they were all echoes of a time that had shaped who he was.
And though their paths had diverged, Raj carried those memories with him – a reminder of a love that had once burned bright, even if it had eventually flickered out.
With a deep breath, Raj placed the diary on a shelf in the storage room. He walked out, closing the door behind him, but he knew that a part of him would always be there – in that room, in those memories, in that letter he had never sent