The next few days unfolded like pages from a half-written book unpredictable, poetic, and fragile.
Ram and Sita began meeting not as lovers, not as strangers, but something in between.
They wandered the streets of Hyderabad, not holding hands, but their hearts pacing beside each other.
She didn't invite him, but she never asked him to leave either. That was enough for Ram.
One morning, as light rain kissed the windows of an old Irani café, Sita sat across Ram, sipping chai.
Ram watched the steam rise between them, blurring the line of tension. He dared to ask, "Do you regret writing those letters?"
She looked up slowly. "No. I regret answering them."
He was taken aback. "Why?"
"Because you're… everything those letters made you to be.
And I'm not ready for that," she whispered, not meeting his eyes.
Ram stayed silent. Then smiled — not in pain, but in understanding. "Even if I'm not in your future, I'm glad I existed in your today."
She blinked, that poetic line sinking into her chest.
He always said the things she couldn't allow herself to feel.
They traveled to the outskirts one day, to a temple she had visited as a child.
The place was quiet, soaked in nostalgia.
Ram stood beside her, watching as she offered prayers.
In that moment, he imagined a life with her not filled with grandeur, but simple mornings, her laughter in his ear, her books stacked beside his army boots.
But as they walked back, Sita broke the moment.
"My family has chosen someone for me. It's been fixed for years. I was never supposed to fall in love."
Ram stopped walking. "Then why did you write to me?"
She turned, teary-eyed. "Because I forgot I wasn't allowed to."
That night, she dropped him near his friend's house.
He watched her leave, a storm behind her calm eyes.
He whispered into the night, "How do I stop loving someone who made me feel alive for the first time?"
Days passed. They didn't meet. Didn't call. Didn't write. Silence wrapped them again — but it wasn't peaceful anymore.
Then one evening, Ram left a note with her college friend:"If you want to marry me… I'll be at the train station on Sunday, 4 PM. I'll wait. If you don't come, I'll never return. But I'll never stop loving you."
He waited at that station. Hours passed. Trains came and went. But not her.
As he turned to leave, a single tear rolled down his cheek.
He walked away, not knowing that destiny had just paused, not ended.