While packing my dresses and books, I came across a box, a box filled with letters and gifts.
letters from my fans. That day, nearly a year ago, is still fresh in my mind. I had arranged a meet-and-greet with my readers. My friend, who is my manager and the designer of my books, organised it. I remember how nervous I was. I was going to introduce myself to my readers in person for the first time. I had no idea how they would feel, how they would respond, or what expectations they had of me or my appearance.
I didn't expect that many people to come. When my manager told me the registrations were filling up, I smiled politely, thinking it was just encouragement. In my heart, I was preparing myself for half-empty chairs and forced applause. But that day, it was full.
Not just full but alive.
Suddenly, readers whom I knew only by their usernames and profile pictures were in front of me. They were holding my books to their chests as though they were priceless and delicate. They told me that on lonely nights, my words had stuck with them.
They asked why I had taken a break.
When was the next book coming out?
Too many inquiries, too many feelings.
I had no idea that my lonely feelings, love, heartbreak, and all of my emotions were conveyed through my words in my book, and that so many people felt it. What is more appreciative than the fact that they experienced the book I wrote based on my feelings?
Tears filled the eyes of some of them. And I recall asking myself, how could something I wrote in my quiet room make people feel this way? I can still clearly recall my outfit from that day: a denim skirt and a soft pink top. I didn't want to appear excessively "formal," so I let my hair fall over my shoulders. I wore simple gold-plated jewellery, including my watch on my left wrist, a delicate bracelet, and tiny earrings.
However, the mask is what most people remember.
An eye mask shaped like a black butterfly. Classy. A little dramatic. The kind that conceals your identity just enough to give you courage. I never thought it would mean so much when I created it as merchandise for my readers.
It was sold out by the end of the event.
Lemon was the username of the first person to order it with my autograph. I was very excited to meet everyone that day.
However, if I am being truthful.
I was secretly hoping to see one person.
Lemon.
That person was more than a mere reader.
When I only had a few followers, he was there. A part of me kept looking around the crowd that day at the meet-and-greet while smiling at everyone, signing books, and taking pictures.
My heart always reacted before my mind whenever the door opened.
However, he never showed up.
I told myself he might be busy.
Perhaps shy.
Perhaps this person did not want to reveal the mystery between the writer and the reader.
"No more tonight," I say quietly to myself, closing the old memory like a bookmarked page.
There is a backstory.
One reason why the name Lemon still feels heavier than it should.
Not today, though. I will tell you the story another day.
I am going for something else tonight.
I carefully fold my books and letters before putting them in the carton. They all seem like different versions of me: the fighter, the dreamer, the heartbroken girl, and the optimistic one. As I mentioned earlier, I'm working on a new story as well.
"Inaaya, come, baby. Dinner is about to be served.
Her voice brings me out of nostalgia and into the present.
I look at the time.
9:00 p.m.
When does it become so late?
I give a gentle smile. Life does not stop just because my emotions do. The world continues to move. And perhaps that is the reminder I need.
Hyderabad — Darsh's House
Darsh is sitting on the balcony of his home in Hyderabad. His mind isn't quiet, even though the night is.
Beside him, on the small table, is an open laptop. An old chapter of a story he has read numerous times is displayed on the screen.
He is reading it again, though.
While reading the story, he becomes deeply contemplative. Even after he stops scrolling, the words remain in his mind.
A few minutes later, he shuts down the laptop and makes his way to his bed. For a while, he lies down and looks at the ceiling. Then, almost sleepy but not quite ready to fall asleep, he picks up his phone in one hand and holds it over his face.
He opens his account and logs in. His thumb scrolls slowly, then abruptly stops.
His eyes light up.
His face softens into a slow smile.
A notification.
His fingers are now moving more quickly as he types a quick response. Still grinning to himself, he puts the phone next to him after sending it. He has a good night's sleep.
"Darsh! Get up! You need to go to the office!" From outside his room, his mother calls.
He wakes up with a gentle smile. Today, he feels lighter.
He walks out and hugs his mother.
"Hi, Mom."
She gives him a close look. "What happened?" "You seem very happy today."
Darsh gives a slight smile, attempting to conceal it. "Nothing, I just had a good sleep after a long time."
13th March 2026.
Today is the day I am moving from Bangalore to Hyderabad. Right now, my mind is overflowing with questions, assumptions, and endless thoughts. How will I handle everything? How am I going to begin a new life? After relying on my parents for so long, how will I manage everything on my own? Who will look after me is the most important question that keeps coming to mind.
I already know the answer in my heart. Yes, I will. I'm capable of doing it, and I'll handle everything by myself. My flight is scheduled to depart in a few hours, and I have nearly finished packing my bags. My mother enters my room at that moment. "Are you ready, Inaaya?" she murmurs. "Take care of yourself, and don't hesitate to call me if you encounter any issues during the flight or once you arrive. We're just a phone call away. Since your aunt has lived there for a long time, you can also give them a call. Perhaps that's why I feel a little self-assured".
My younger brother is looking at me from the corner of the door. I've never noticed the softness in his eyes before. It could be a happy tear or something else entirely. We have been fighting like crazy at home for all these years, but something feels different today. He approaches me and gives me a quick hug. "I will miss you, Diii." Although I am aware that this statement seems unreal based on the bond between a brother and sister, it feels entirely valid right now. And suddenly it hits me—how can I just leave this monkey behind? In every circumstance, he has supported me. Even though I argue with him, bully him, and occasionally even make fun of him, he is still my brother. My heart feels heavy. It is hard, really hard to explain. I don't even know how to put this emotion into words. It feels like a part of me is growing up today, while another part of me just wants to hold him tightly and never leave.
As the car finally pulls up, it's time to go. My brother and father offer to help me with my luggage. After carefully moving everything from the second floor to the first, they load it into the car. My mom, my dad, my brother—everyone comes with me to the airport to see me off. We show up at the airport on time. I give hugs to everyone. However, I give my brother a little longer hug than the others. I finally realised at that point why it's said that once you leave the airport, you shouldn't look back. It's said that strong people simply move forward.
However, I turn around.
I feel like I'm leaving half of myself behind with them as tears fall down my cheeks.
"Special call for all the passengers from Bangalore to Hyderabad. Please come to your boarding line."
Finally, I land in Hyderabad.
My heart feels a little excited, but I'm not sure why. I have a feeling that something will change in a good way. Perhaps something special is waiting for me here.
I have no idea where.
I'm not sure what.
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