A True Love Story That Defied Borders and Time

In January 2017, Anika Singh was a 25-year-old literature student from Jaipur, India, preparing for her thesis on post-colonial poetry.

Across the world, James Carter, a 27-year-old freelance travel writer from Edinburgh, Scotland, was looking for a local contact for his upcoming trip to India.

A mistyped email address changed both their lives. James had meant to reach out to a guesthouse owner in Jaipur. Instead, his message landed in Anika’s inbox. Curious, she replied politely to let him know of the mistake. But something about the tone—light-hearted, apologetic, and personal—led them into a conversation. What began as one email turned into daily messages. Then weekly video calls. Then long letters written just for fun. "We didn’t mean to fall in love," Anika would later say.

"It just... happened somewhere between poetry and shared sunsets over two screens." By March 2017, James had finally booked his trip to India. But this time, he wasn't just traveling to explore the Golden Triangle—he was traveling to meet her. Anika was waiting for him at Jaipur Junction, wearing a pale yellow scarf and holding a handwritten sign that said "Lost Writer." James, jetlagged and nervous, laughed the moment he saw her. They spent the next two weeks exploring temples, eating street food, and talking late into the night. He was fascinated by her quiet strength; she admired his sense of wonder. There was no confession, no dramatic kiss. Just a shared realization: this could be something real. When James left for home, they stood in silence at the airport. Neither said goodbye. Neither knew if they would see each other again.

Months passed. They stayed connected through video calls and journal entries they mailed across oceans. The time zones were brutal. The internet dropped often. But the connection held. They learned patience. She shared her world—the buzz of her Jaipur neighborhood, the poetry readings she attended, the spicy meals she cooked. He sent her photos of foggy Scottish mornings, bookstores he adored, and notes scribbled in margins. James returned to India the next year, this time for a month. They traveled through Kerala, Goa, and back to Jaipur, where he met her family. Her parents were skeptical at first.

A foreign writer, barely stable financially, in love with their daughter? But James won them over with sincerity. He sat with her father discussing politics. He learned Hindi phrases. He helped cook dal. By the end of his visit, her mother said softly, "He may be far, but his heart is here." They both knew long-distance couldn't go on forever. Anika had just been accepted for a teaching position at a university in Delhi. James had an offer to lead a writing residency in Paris. They had choices—but none that placed them in the same city. "Come with me to Paris," he said one night, his voice cracking. "My family needs me," she replied. "My roots are here." They almost ended it. Almost. Instead, they made a pact. One year. They would each pursue their dreams. Then decide where their paths could join.

During that year, they wrote more letters than ever. Real, paper letters filled with pressed flowers, doodles, and promises. James’ essays from Paris began to reflect a depth he credited to Anika. Anika's students loved the stories she told of her Scottish friend who ate with his hands and tried every spice. One day, James sent a package. Inside was a tiny hand-carved box. Anika opened it to find two train tickets to Jaipur.

She cried. Not because he was returning. But because the second ticket had her name on it too. James returned in December 2019. This time, he wasn’t a visitor. He had applied and been accepted to a creative writing program in India. His plan was simple: build a life where Anika lived. They moved into a small apartment near the old city. Life was far from perfect. He missed his family; she missed quiet mornings alone. They fought over silly things—how to brew tea, where to keep the books. But they also found a rhythm. They hosted poetry nights.

They wrote a joint blog about love across cultures. They traveled to Scotland once a year to visit James' family, who welcomed Anika as their own. In 2022, they married under the Rajasthani sky. No big wedding. Just family, close friends, and the hum of music and laughter. Today, James and Anika live in Jaipur.

He teaches writing. She runs a community library. Together, they've co-authored a book of essays titled Letters from Two Continents, now translated into five languages. Their love story isn't a fairy tale. It's better.

It’s real. Built on late-night calls, handwritten letters, and two people who didn’t give up on each other—no matter the distance. Because sometimes, love doesn't arrive with fireworks. Sometimes, it slips into your inbox by mistake. And if you’re lucky enough to notice it—you never let it go.