Crushed Chimere

17. The art of miscommunication

♡Inayah's pov♡

Have you ever felt it? A small moment before the memory-that small haven of neutrality, before the headlong crash into recognition.

The tragedy of growing up-knowing you’ll run out of time to feel something new something fresh for the first time.

For years I have kept a secret, a secret kept behind a glass screen. A secret so forbidden, so bad but it felt so good. And after listening to Arhann’s ‘love letter’, a huge wave of nostalgia hits me.

Love a boundless feeling; free to give. Free to receive.
I don’t know what it’s like to love someone. Who the world tells me I am not supposed to love.

But I do know what it feels like to be loved by one. Someone I don’t know, someone I can’t be with.

I do know the feeling one feels reading those forbidden words written with so much selfless, unconditional love who doesn’t want anything in return.

I remember the feeling I felt reading the letter I have been getting every day for the past 5 years in my college.

Handwritten letters snucked under my desk, pressed with flowers in my favourite books in our college library, which is still a mystery to me. How did my secret admirer knew which exact books are my favourite?

Those letters made me feel how one feels dancing in the first rain of the year or one feels riding on that one favourite slide as an adult you used to play on as a kid. – Pure joy.

I afcourse was a little creeped out when I first received it, and threw it in my bag thinking it as someones silly prank.

But when I opened to read whats written in it out of curiosity, from that day I realised that letters are the upmost optime of romance.

Flashback scenes ahead:-
( she was 18 during this period)

My eyes are puffy from all the crying I did after my fathers daily drunk session.
The deep cut he gave me from one of his knifes, was bleeding. Blood trickling down my arm.

Picking up my bag I rushed into the washroom, I always had an extra med-kit in it, just in case something happens.

Unzipping the bag I was about to pull out the pouch, but then I saw a brown letter the one I found under my desk today.

Well I guess curiosity killed the cat, picking up the letter I unfold it.

Slinding down the washroom wall I sit on the floor. Wincing as I come in contact with the cold tiles

A bit of blood was seeping in the corner of the paper, ignoring that I finally read the letter.