It's me Rojan

Dear Me, If this letter ever reaches you, it means you're alive and hopefully doing well. I hope life has been kind to you. I hope you’ve made it. Maybe you have a great job or your own business. Maybe you're doing something you love and getting paid well for it. I truly hope you’re successful and happy, because right now, I’m working so hard just for that version of us. Every morning, I wake up at 5:00 AM. I go to college, attend my classes, and try to focus. After that, I go to work at 10:00 AM and stay there for 7 long hours. When I get home, I study again. Sometimes, I forget to eat or just don’t feel like eating. My days are packed, and my nights are short. It’s exhausting. I’ve started drinking black coffee without sugar and strangely, I think I’ve grown to like it. Maybe because it feels like strength in a cup. I don’t have much of a life outside of this routine. My world is mostly my PC monitor, some tabs on the browser, and the sound of keys clicking while I code...

As I was mourning my wife's death, I felt extremely nervous. My wife is gone. Her last word was "Aarush" our son's name as she held my right hand with her left. I was sitting beside the bed while she lay there, weak and helpless. I said, "Don’t leave me, darling," with tears in my eyes. She smiled, and slowly, her hand slipped out of mine. She was gone. I was all alone. What a mother she was. Even in her final moment, she thought of our son. But he doesn’t care about us now. He and his family live in the city. His wife doesn’t like us either. They never say it, but their eyes show everything. I’m an old man. I don’t know how to use smartphones. I only know how to use a telephone. I remembered I had my son’s number in the cupboard. When I opened the cupboard and started searching, I accidentally knocked over some papers and a photo album. As I picked them up, I noticed a piece of paper with our son's handwriting. It said, “Best parents in the world.” He h...

After high school, we had gone our separate ways, but one evening, I finally gathered the courage to reply to one of her Instagram stories. From there, things just flowed a few exchanged reels, inside jokes, and suddenly we were friends, casually chatting like we’d known each other forever. Then one ordinary day, out of nowhere, I saw her on a local bus. For a moment, I froze she had changed, yet something about her felt the same. Her features had matured gracefully; she wasn’t just pretty, she was stunning in a quiet, effortless way. Her skin glowed with a soft, sun-kissed warmth, and though she still wore those same lame glasses, they somehow suited her better now, adding to her charm. Her voice had changed too softer, more melodious, like honey poured over warm tea. We talked about our lives, laughing gently, the years melting away between us. And just as I was beginning to forget time, my stop came. “Bye,” I said. She smiled and replied, “Bye,” and for some reason, that one word f...

My empire has never fallen. And now, as its king, I ask myself have I done enough for my people? Was I a good king? I gave my whole life to this land. When I was just 18, my father died. From Prince Alden of Miswood, I became King Alden of Brenmar. Since that day, everything changed. Now, I must lead my people into war. The war council has ended. We are going to fight. Our enemy has gone too far. They killed our men in the streets. They raped our women. Even little girls were not spared. Babies were burned alive in their homes near the border. We are strong. But so are they. No matter what happens, history will remember me. If I win, they will call me a great king who never lost a war. But if I lose, they will say I was the one who led my people to their deaths. What if I lose? They will kill our people. They will rape every woman, including my queen. My son, Prince Albert Prince of Miswood, will be executed. My palace Crystalwatch the symbol of our power and beauty, will be destroye...

It was a regular day. The sun was shining brightly, and the raindrops from the morning still rested on my mother’s leaves. Birds were singing sweet songs from the nearby tree, and the gentle wind was moving my mother, which made me sway from side to side as if I were dancing. I felt so happy. This is how I want to live forever, I thought. Mother always told me that one day I would become the most beautiful flower in the garden. She said that when that day comes, I would feel the breeze more deeply, and it would kiss my petals. I believed her. Life felt peaceful, and I was enjoying every moment of it. Then suddenly, a human came near us. He touched me with his big hand. I thought maybe he found me beautiful maybe I was finally the flower Mother talked about. I used to love humans. One kind human would come every day and pour water on us. That cool touch of water was the best feeling I had ever known. But this human felt different. He pulled me hard, and with a loud twack, I was torn fro...

Angrily, I threw my phone onto the bed. “This girl…” I muttered to myself. Bzzz Bzzz my phone vibrated again. I glanced at the screen. It was a long paragraph, full of complaints about how immature I was, how I never listened to her. Back then, I brushed it off, but now when I think about those days… maybe she was right. Maybe I was the problem. It was the weekend. We hadn’t seen each other in a while, and I thought maybe that’s why we were arguing so much. So I decided to meet her, to stop the fight. I texted her, “There’s no point being angry with me, darling. Is there?” Surprisingly, that one message changed everything. She calmed down. She started replying to me like she used to. I sent her a reel she reacted to it. I felt so relieved, like the sky clearing after a storm. I asked her to meet me at the café we used to go to all the time. She agreed. When the time came, I texted, “Okay, I’m leaving home. Be there on time.” She replied, “Okay.” I reached the café and waited. She wa...

The warm sunshine that was streaming through the class room window was doing nothing to help my concentration as i sat in class trying to pay attention. The teacher's voice droning on about some dead men who fought wars hundred of years ago was slowly putting me to sleep. I wish i knew why someone thought that we should needed to learn about those dead people. "May i come in?" soft voice came from classroom door. Sculpted figure which was twine thin. Her waist was tapered and she had a burnished arched eyebrows with lens looked down on sweeping eyelashed. It could jolt you like an electric current if that megawatt smile give you full attention. I wanted to feel that ! Her voice was sweet as any songbird. I was just looking at her. "Hey you...standup!!" Teacher asked me. in loud voice. I tried to seem casual as i glanced up. My heart jumped and then i realized that teacher was looking at the person to my left. "You will be her new bench partner" Teac...