Fragments of a Forgotten Heart(part 1)

Anshikha was sitting quietly on the sofa, a novel resting in her hands.

Her eyes moved over the printed words, but her mind refused to focus. She read the same sentence again and again, yet its meaning slipped away every time. The story in the book felt distant, unreal—just like her own life. She was completely absent-minded, trapped in thoughts she could neither understand nor escape.

Her husband was at the office.

There was a time when his absence used to bother her, but not anymore. Even though he always cared for her, she had grown indifferent.

He checked on her health, reminded her about her medicines, worried when she stayed quiet for too long, and protected her in every way possible. Yet she never noticed any of it. She never tried to understand his feelings or the silent love behind his actions.

For her, he was just… there.

She closed the novel and placed it beside her. Leaning back against the sofa, she stared at the wall, her eyes blank.

Is this really my life?

Why do I feel so empty even when everything seems normal?

A strange hollowness lived inside her, as if something precious had been taken away from her without her knowing. Two years of her life felt like a locked door—no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t remember what lay behind it. That gap in her memories left her restless, uneasy, and scared, though she rarely admitted it to herself.

Suddenly, the loud sound of the doorbell broke the silence of the house.

She flinched, her heart skipping a beat.

“Who could it be?” she murmured, placing the novel aside as she slowly stood up. She walked toward the door, her steps hesitant for reasons she couldn’t explain.

when she opened it, a courier boy stood outside, holding a medium-sized box.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. Courier for Anshikha Sharma,” he said politely.

“That’s me,” she replied.

"Please sign here.”

She signed the paper and took the box from his hands.

“Who sent it?” she asked, frowning slightly.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. The sender’s details aren’t mentioned,” he answered.

She nodded quietly, thanked him, and closed the door.

For a moment, she just stood there, staring at the box in her hands. It felt strangely heavy—not because of its weight, but because of an unfamiliar fear slowly settling in her chest. Her heartbeat began to quicken, and a sense of uneasiness crawled over her skin.

As she turned the box around, her eyes suddenly froze.

The handwriting.

Her breath caught in her throat.

The name written on the box was painfully familiar. Her fingers began to tremble, and her heart skipped a beat.

No… this can’t be, she thought.

Fear crept deep into her chest. Her palms turned cold, and her mind spun with confusion. She knew that handwriting. She had seen it countless times before—on letters, notes, and pages filled with emotions she could no longer remember. It belonged to someone she had once been very close to… someone she had pushed out of her life without knowing why.

Her chest felt unbearably heavy as she walked back to the living room. She placed the box carefully on the table near the sofa and sat down slowly, her hands still shaking.

For a few seconds, she just stared at it.

Then, gathering all her courage, she reached out.

With trembling fingers, she slowly opened the box.

Inside, there was a letter.

The moment her eyes fell on it, her breathing became uneven. A sharp pain tightened in her chest, and her heart began to race violently, as if it were trying to escape.

Something inside her cracked.

And that was when everything began to fall apart…

Author’s Note

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