The Lost Letter

 In a quiet little town named Chandrapur, nestled between soft hills and silent roads, lived an elderly woman named Mira Dutta. Though the town was small, it carried a thousand whispers of memories — and Mira was one of them.

She lived alone in an old house at the end of a narrow lane. Every evening, she would sit on her porch with a yellow envelope clutched gently in her hands. People in the neighborhood often wondered about it. Some said it was a love letter, others believed it was from a long-lost son.

Whenever someone asked her about it, she would smile softly and say, “It’s the story of someone I’m still waiting for.”

Day after day, season after season, she sat in the same place, eyes fixed on the far-off road, as if expecting someone to appear. The letter remained sealed — untouched, unread, and deeply treasured.

Then, one winter morning, Mira passed away peacefully in her sleep.

While sorting through her things, her neighbors finally found the yellow envelope lying quietly on her bedside table. For a moment, no one dared to open it. But curiosity and emotion led them to break the seal.

Inside was a letter written in soft, faded ink — a goodbye from someone who had left long ago but had promised to return. It ended with the words:

“If fate allows, I’ll find my way back to you. Wait for me.”

And she did. All her life.