Unwritten Letters

She thought about writing a letter for a long time.

But she never did.

She couldn’t even remember how many times she had picked up a piece of paper, twirled a pen between her fingers, searching for the heavy words in her heart. It felt like if she wrote them down, the weight inside her would become lighter. But the words never came.

It was as if each letter had to be torn from her heart, as if every sentence reopened an old wound.

So, she didn’t write.

Maybe she had to accept the emptiness inside her not as love, but as just another trial of fate.

For the first time, she had opened her heart, longing for affection. She had never received enough love from her family, always felt like an outsider, and had learned to swallow her feelings. And when she loved, she loved with her whole being—with every emotion she had carried since childhood.

The one she loved gave her warmth. He filled the empty spaces in her heart. A heart that had never known tenderness finally felt it for the first time.

But… life was cruel. Fate had chosen a different path for them.

She was in another land. Another city, different people, a foreign world. And more than anything, she needed warmth. But that warmth only existed in one person. He was the one who comforted her, who didn’t let her feel lost. With him, her world was bright.

But time passed, and she had to return home.

And when she came back… everything had changed.

They loved each other. But now, they could no longer protect their love. Distance, fate, reality, people—everything stood between them like a wall.

They parted ways.

From that day on, her life split into two.

On one side was her old self—the girl who longed for affection, who dreamed, who found happiness in little things.

On the other side was her new self—cold, distant, and perhaps even afraid of love.

She started living without love. No, not without love. She was alive, but inside, she was empty.

Because when she loved someone, she loved forever. That was just who she was.

She would watch her favorite movie over and over again.

She would listen to the same song for weeks.

She would wear the same outfit, refusing to replace it.

And when she loved someone—she loved them always.

That’s why she never buried her love.

She never spoke of it, never shared it with anyone.

She kept it inside.

Like an unwritten letter.

All she had left were memories.

The photos of them together.

The matching watches.

And the most precious thing of all—the flowers he had given her.

They were still with her.

The drawing he made never left her side.

Time passed. But she didn’t change. She buried herself in studies, set new goals.

She didn’t let anyone get close to her.

She became like a rose with thorns—beautiful from a distance, but ready to wound anyone who dared to come too close.

The letters she wanted to write were never written.

But they remained in her heart.

Every heart carries such unwritten letters.

Some people eventually burn them.

Some keep them forever.

And she… she is still keeping them.

Unwritten letters.

Unspoken words.

And now… she is afraid to remember.

Because remembering hurts too much.

Bokijonova Madinabonu Batirovna was born on 19th of May 2004 in Beshkapa mahalla, Qoshtepa district, Fergana region. She is currently a 3rd year student of the Faculty of Philology, Fergana State University, Russian language and literature. Several of her stories have been published in various magazines.