Letters of the Unknown || SwaSan

✨End or Beginning??✨

The days that followed were like stepping into a dream—one where reality blurred with fragments of a past Swara wasn't entirely sure she believed, yet couldn't ignore.

Sanskar was patient, never pushing her to accept more than she could handle. Instead, he answered her questions with quiet honesty, filling in the gaps left by the diary.

They spent hours together under the banyan tree, the old, sprawling branches seeming to shelter them from the weight of the world. Swara felt herself opening up in ways she hadn't expected. Sanskar wasn't just telling her a story—he was pulling her into it, making her feel as though the memories he described were her own.

One afternoon, Swara finally asked the question that had been gnawing at her.

"If this is our second—or third, or whatever—life together, why do we keep failing? Why do we keep losing each other?"

Sanskar leaned against the tree, his expression thoughtful. "I've asked myself that a thousand times. Maybe it's because we've never truly faced the challenges. In every life, we've fought the circumstances but never each other. Maybe this time, it's about choosing each other, no matter how hard it gets."

Swara frowned, turning the words over in her mind. "And what happens if we don't? If we fail again?"

"Then we try again," he said simply. "Until we get it right."

The sincerity in his voice both comforted and unnerved her. Was love supposed to feel this endless, this determined?

The next time Swara opened the diary, it wasn't to find answers but to relive moments that felt hauntingly familiar.

She lingered on a particular passage:

"She was scared that day. I saw it in her eyes. Scared of the future, of what choosing me would mean. I told her it didn't matter—that we'd figure it out together. But deep down, I knew I was asking her to risk everything. And she did."

As she read, Swara felt the emotions wash over her—fear, excitement, and an all-consuming love that seemed to defy logic. It was a feeling she couldn't place but recognized in her bones.

She looked up from the diary, her heart heavy. The weight of their past, if true, was immense. But more than that, it was the possibility of repeating it that scared her the most.

One evening, Sanskar invited her to a quiet spot by the riverbank. They sat on the grass, watching the water shimmer in the fading sunlight.

"Do you ever think about what it would've been like if we'd gotten it right the first time?" Swara asked, breaking the silence.

"All the time," Sanskar admitted. "But I've realized something: it's not about getting it right the first time. It's about the journey. Each life teaches us something new, makes us stronger."

Swara studied his profile, the way his eyes softened as he spoke. "And what about this life? What are we supposed to learn now?"

Sanskar smiled faintly. "I think that's for us to decide."

For a moment, Swara let herself imagine it—a life where she chose him, where they overcame the obstacles together. The thought filled her with both hope and fear.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, Sanskar reached for her hand.

"Swara," he said, his voice steady. "I don't want to rush you. But I need you to know something. Whether you believe in our past or not, my feelings for you in this life are real. I love you—not just because of who we were, but because of who you are now."