Time has its own way of moving on — quietly, unapologetically, and without asking for permission.
The letters still came, at first. Folded in familiar handwriting, carrying the weight of memories, each one a little bridge across continents. But then… life began to stretch those bridges. A day passed without a letter. Then a week. Then a month.
Meena noticed it first.
She would run to the gate the moment she heard the postman’s bell, heart thudding. Sometimes he came with nothing but advertisements and electricity bills. She’d smile politely, retreating with a sigh.
“It’ll come tomorrow,” she told herself.
But even hope, when stretched too long, grows tired.
Kasturi, now in her teens, was navigating an entirely different world.
Texas was warm, yes, but the warmth was of the sun — not the people.
School was a blur of lockers, hurried footsteps, and unfamiliar slang. The classrooms were bigger. Everything was faster. Here, friends weren’t made on rooftops with kites and shared mango pickles.
She tried. She smiled, joined clubs, and corrected the pronunciation of her name a hundred times. But inside, a part of her always felt… homesick. A strange word, really. Because it wasn’t just a house she missed. It was the dusty and narrow lanes of Khurda. A girl with braids. A teddy bear. A rooftop full of shared dreams.
She wrote when she could. But slowly, even her letters began to shrink. What was once four pages became one. Then a paragraph was written hurriedly. And sometimes, nothing at all.
Back in Khurda Road, Meena was growing too.
She had topped her class that year. Her English teacher had once said, “You should write, Meena. You feel too much.” Meena didn’t know what she wanted to become yet — some days it was a poet, some days a vet. But always, always, a girl who had known friendship that felt like magic.
She would still talk to Kassy, the pink teddy with one thread coming loose at the ear. Her mother once said, “You’ll outgrow that soon,” but Meena never did. She liked to believe Kassy carried memories — the kind that even time couldn’t steal.
One evening, while going through her old letters, she found Kasturi’s last one — dated almost six months ago. The ink was slightly smudged near the edges.
“Sorry for the delay. Things are busy. SATs, college visits, so much noise. I miss our lazy Sundays and the quiet moments together.”
Meena read it again and again, but there were no questions in the letter. No “how are you?” No “what’s new in your world?”
That hurt more than she expected.
She didn’t write back.
Seasons changed again.
They both grew taller, older. New people entered their lives. New memories were made — but none that felt quite as golden.
There were times when Meena would pick up her pen, write a few lines, then stop.
What if she didn’t remember the rooftop?
What if their friendship had become… a memory?
But even memories have their seasons — some go quiet before returning in full bloom.
And somewhere across the ocean, Kasturi was standing by her window, holding a small box. Inside were old letters tied with a red ribbon. The last one was from Meena.
She ran her fingers across the ink, whispered, “I wonder if you still think of me.”
A tear slid down her cheek, and this time, she didn’t brush it away.
They hadn’t stopped caring.
But life — growing up, growing apart — is a soft kind of heartbreak. The kind that doesn’t scream, doesn’t end in a bang. It just… drifts.
Yet somewhere in both of them, a thread remained — stretched, but never broken.
And sometimes, threads are enough.
PS: I’m participating in #BlogchatterA2Z
Cerebration 
I like this chapter because it shares many of the storyteller’s opinions. It begins by reflecting on the passage of time in our lives and ends with a poetic touch.
//
Yet somewhere in both of them, a thread remained — stretched, but never broken.
And sometimes, threads are enough.
//
I really loved the last line because I have many friendships like that. But I think that’s the beauty of such relationships, right? Everyone has their immediate circle & their extended circle. Sometimes, someone who was once in your immediate circle may move to the extended circle as times pass. As you said, the thread between them can still keep them connected. Even if the relationship changes, their minds remain linked. It might even feel awkward to intrude into their immediate circle now. Life changes, and so does time.
Well written. This is one of the finest chapters of this series. All the best.
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Thank you so much for this lovely compliment! As a writer, it’s truly heartwarming to know that my thoughts and expressions resonate so beautifully with a reader. And yes, your interpretation of the immediate and extended circle is absolutely spot on! The extended circle, though connected by just a thread, is enough to keep the friendship alive. Thank you for sharing your thoughts here!
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A classic case of it wasn’t me, it was them, right? That’s how relationships drift apart and that thread remains unhinged on both ends. Hope one or both of them will pick up and tie the loose ends. Sigh!
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Yes only if life gives them a second chance! Thanks for staying with the story.
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Love the sentence, hope if overstretched, grows tired. So apt, it does take away the beauty of what we are waiting for. And yes, time’s wheels keep moving, it doesn’t matter what you feel or think or say, it’s just how time is. Maybe, the girls will meet as women now!
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I am glad the lines resonated with you! And I would say that a good guess regarding the story plot. 🙂
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The way you captured the slow fade of a friendship—how letters become less frequent, words become fewer, and yet the bond lingers—is so beautifully real. Meena’s quiet heartbreak over Kasturi’s silence felt like a mirror to my own experiences of drifting apart from people I once thought I’d never lose touch with.
The imagery of Kasturi standing by her window, holding the old letters, was so poignant. It made me think about all the friendships I’ve let slip away without realizing it. Your writing has this gentle way of making the ordinary feel extraordinary, of turning a simple act like reading a letter into a moment of deep reflection.
Thank you for sharing this piece. It reminded me of the importance of holding onto the threads that still connect us, even when life pulls us in different directions.
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Sometimes, even the thinnest thread is enough to keep a relationship alive. Thank you for your kind words. I’m delighted to hear that you’re enjoying this series.
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Sometimes threads are enough – as they help you weave a new tapestry. Growing apart as you grow up is a natural process. In the case of Meena and Kasturi the distance between them is what seems to be wedging them apart.
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Indeed, sometimes a single thread is enough to hold everything together. Let’s see if fate brings them closer or keeps them apart forever.
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“Time has its own way of moving on — quietly, unapologetically, and without asking for permission.” The beginning line was enough to catch a reader’s attention. It resonated deeply. The waiting for letters, the memories of the lazy Sundays, quiet moments spent together, and the hom of Khurda, everything was slowly fading away yet the thread of longing remained as the only remnant of their friendship. The waiting was vivid in your words.
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Thank you so much for your kind words!
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But even memories have their seasons — some go quiet before returning in full bloom. How true is that. I have a feeling they both will find their way back.
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I like how this chapter ended on a hopeful note…”…sometimes, threads are enough.”
You captured emotions very well here.
Cheers,
CRD
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Thank you so much CRD!
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