July 6, 2025 – Afternoon
Tara's reply arrived like sunlight through curtains. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just… there. Bright. Quiet. Warm.
Reyansh had been sipping cold coffee when the Slowly notification buzzed. He didn't check it immediately. Not out of hesitation. Out of reverence.
> She replied.
That simple truth was enough to still the rest of the world for a moment.
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✉️ Letter 8 — From Tara
Sent: July 6, 2025 – 1:39 PM
Hey again Reyansh,
I don't really know how to explain it, but writing back to you felt easy — like I didn't have to pretend. You said my words felt like rain on the roof — that was beautiful. I never thought my random little update about lectures and chai could mean something to someone. But maybe that's what we miss sometimes — the small things are the story.
Your words stayed with me all day. Especially that line — "two people meeting in a letter-shaped space." I've never read something like that before. You write like you're listening to the moment itself. It's calming.
And you know what? I'm glad you offered to be my awkward gaming teacher 😂 Because I'm genuinely curious — how does gaming feel like an escape for you? Or is it more than that? (Also, what are your favorite games? Don't say Candy Crush 😶)
I've been listening to old Arijit Singh songs while studying. They make me feel things I don't always understand — but somehow they help. Do you ever listen to a song and feel like it's written for you, but also about you? I think music does that.
Oh, and I did stare out my window again yesterday. Sky was grey, and it kind of matched my thoughts. Not in a sad way. Just… slow. That's when I realized — silence isn't scary when someone understands it. You understand it. I felt that in your letter.
So… thanks for being honest. And gentle. And not in a hurry. That's rare.
Hope your day is kind to you. Talk soon?
— Tara 🌻
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Narrator Voice (continued)
There was something in her tone this time. A shift. A soft unpeeling. This wasn't just friendly anymore. This was familiar. Safe. Real.
Reyansh read her words twice. Then once more with music playing. She'd called his presence "calming." She'd spoken about grey skies matching her thoughts. And that line — "silence isn't scary when someone understands it" — it stayed with him long after the letter ended.
He looked out his own window. Grey sky here, too. Maybe it wasn't a coincidence. Maybe they were learning to speak in the same quiet language, even if miles apart.