Page 28 of Protect my Heart
“I intend to,” I whisper back, the words a promise branded into my soul.
She lets me go, and I straighten up. “I kept those letters, Aarav,” she says, her voice soft. “They’re in a wooden box, tucked behind in my cupboard. They’re yours. Take them.”
I nod, my heart hammering. I can almost feel them in my hands already—her words, her voice, and the pieces of her heart she tried to send me.
And now... Now, I will read every single one. And maybe—just maybe—I can start winning her back.
LETTERS
ANIKA
Hi Aarav,
I’ve only ever written letters during English classes in school, so this feels a little weird—this is my first real letter to an actual person. I hope you’re doing fine... and maybe missing me just a little bit? (Okay, I’ll actually feel bad if you’re not missing me at all. Hehe.)
It’s okay here, I guess. We live in this huge house now, and there’s even a swimming pool, though I’m not allowed to use it. Oh, and guess what? I suddenly have two more siblings, two brothers—Gaurav and Kabir. I don’t like either of them much. They act like they’re kings of the world, always bossing me around. It’s exhausting. And I can’t even paint here. All my art supplies are finished, and Mumma says I shouldn’t ask Papa to buy more because he’ll just scold me. Honestly, sometimes it feels like nothing is really mine anymore.
School’s boring too. I haven’t managed to make a single friend. I think it’s your fault, you know. I got so used to hanging out with you all the time that now... it’s like I forgot how to talk to new people. My social skills have officially died. Nobody seems to appreciate my lame jokes like you did. (And don’t even lie, I know you liked them—even if you didn’t laugh, your earsused to turn pink.) I miss you, Aarav. I miss being at your house, sneaking those extra puris from Aunty, and playing stupid games with Aditi.
Oh, and please tell Aunty and Aditi that the dress they gave me fits perfectly—I love it so much. Thank them for me, okay? I’m really hoping you’ll write back soon, even if it’s just one word. Please. I just need to know how you are. And Aarav... I’m really sorry for leaving like that. But you’re still stuck with me—in spirit at least. (Not like a ghost spirit, you idiot, haha.)
Anyway, I’ll be waiting for your reply.
Bye, Aaru. (Go cry about it—you can’t even pull my hair now.)
Yours truly,
Anu
???
I didn’t get any letter from you yet, Aarav. I’m trying not to overthink it, but you know how my brain is. I hope you’re okay. If you’re angry with me, can you just tell me? But please... don’t ignore me. Pretty please. You know how I am—if you don’t say anything, I’ll just assume the worst. (Yes, this is emotional blackmail. So take the bait and write back already.)
Still no progress on the friend-making front. I just go to school like a robot now. But on the bright side, I’m finally allowed to use the pool... though only on Sundays. Who even makes that kind of rule?
Lately, I’ve been missing Ajit Uncle a lot too. And his chole bhature—nothing tastes as good here. Mumma looks sotired all the time, and no matter how much I tell her to rest, she keeps pushing herself. I hate that Papa never says anything about it.
Oh! I made a new joke today, and you have to hear it:
What did the orange say to the apple? 'You’re the apple of my eye... but I’m the ‘orange-inal!'
Get it? If you don’t, you’re officially dumb because it’s seriously simple.
Okay, enough rambling. I’ll wait for your letter, Aaru. Please don’t keep me waiting too long.
Yours truly,
Anu
???
Why are you doing this, Aarav? Ignoring me? Your best friend? You do realize that if it comes to an ignoring contest, I will win hands down, right? And then you’ll regret it because I can be really stubborn.
I’m trying not to be mad, but it’s hard. I miss you guys every single day. How are Badi Maa, Aditi, and even Rudraksh Bhaiya? Does anyone still remember me? Do you? Honestly, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I even miss your weird, unreadable handwriting.
It’s summer vacation now, and I begged Papa to let me visit you all. But he said no before I could even finish asking. My brothers get to go to their Nani's place, but I’m stuck here. Life’s unfair. Papa even scolded me for asking too many times, and Mumma just looked helpless.
I can't even swim anymore—not after my so-called brothers threw soup in the pool and blamed me for it. Papa, of course, believed them. Big surprise.
