Suliman khan

The Last Letter

The Last Letter Some words are written not to be sent, but to be discovered when the soul is ready to receive them. Zayan hadn’t stepped inside his grandmother’s home in over ten years. Now, walking through the wooden front door, he was instantly transported to a different time. The scent of rosewater clung to the air, just as it had when he was a boy. The ticking of the old clock on the wall was steady, calming yet eerie, like it had been counting down to this moment. Everything inside the house was still and silent, like the home itself was holding its breath.