“Letters to the One I Never Met”

My name is Zara.

And this is not just a love story — this is a story of waiting, of words that traveled across time and distance, and of a boy I never met... but loved more than anyone else in this world.

It all began with the wrong number.

Chapter 1: The First Message

I still remember that cold December night.

It was around midnight when my phone buzzed.

Unknown Number: “I hope you reached home safely.”

I stared at the screen, confused. Was it a prank?

I replied:

“I think you have the wrong number.”

A few seconds later:

“Oh! I’m so sorry. This was meant for my sister. But... thanks for replying anyway. :)”

I smiled, typed “no worries,” and thought it was over.

But it wasn’t.

Chapter 2: A Stranger Who Listened

His name was Rayyan.

He was 22, studying architecture, living in Islamabad.

I was 21, a literature student from Lahore.

What started as one wrong message became a chain of conversations — short ones at first, then longer, then voice notes, and eventually... calls that lasted through the night.

We never met. Not even once.

But in those daily texts, voice messages, and shared secrets, we found something rare.

I once asked, “Isn’t this strange? Falling for someone we’ve never seen?”

He said:

“I haven’t seen your face, Zara...

But I’ve seen your heart. And that’s enough for me.”

Chapter 3: Rules of the Unseen

We made a pact:

No photos.

No video calls.

No searching each other online.

Just letters. Just words.

Old-school. Crazy. Unreal.

But magical.

Every week, we’d write long letters to each other over WhatsApp — raw, unfiltered letters.

He wrote about his dreams of designing homes with huge balconies.

I wrote about stories I wanted to publish.

One night, I texted:

“Rayyan, I think I’m falling in love.”

He replied 6 minutes later:

“Zara, I already did.”

Chapter 4: The Day Everything Changed

On March 3rd, I messaged him:

“I want to break our rule.”

He asked why.

“Because I want to see the person I’ve given my heart to.”

No reply.

Hours passed. Then a voice note:

“Zara... I need to tell you something.”

His voice was shaking.

“I was diagnosed with a rare heart condition two years ago. Doctors said I may not live past 24. I didn’t want to involve anyone in my mess... especially someone as beautiful as your soul.”

My screen blurred. I cried.

I replied:

“You idiot. Don’t you know? I never needed forever. I just needed you.”

Chapter 5: The Final Letter

He promised he would fight. He promised he’d try every treatment.

We talked every day. I wrote him poems. He wrote me hope.

But on May 17th, I woke up to silence.

No “good morning.”

No “how’s your tea today?”

No “did you sleep well?”

I messaged. Called. Waited.

That night, I got a call.

Rayyan’s sister.

“Zara... I’m so sorry. He... he passed away in the morning. Peacefully. Holding the phone. Your last message was open on his screen.”

I couldn’t breathe.

I collapsed to the floor. Screamed silently.

Chapter 6: Letters That Still Arrive

Weeks passed. I didn’t eat properly. Didn’t sleep.

Until one day, I got an email — scheduled delivery.

It was from Rayyan.

Subject: "In case I can’t be there..."

“Zara, if you’re reading this, it means I couldn’t stay. But I need you to know: I never lived until I met you.

You gave a dying man a reason to wake up.

You made words feel like home.

I may not have seen your face...

But I knew your soul. And it was the most beautiful thing I ever loved.”

“I’ve set a scheduled letter for you every month for the next year. They’ll stop when I turn 24 — if I ever make it that far.

Until then... read them. Smile. Remember me.”

Chapter 7: The Love That Stayed

Every 17th of the month, a letter still arrives.

Sometimes, it’s a joke.

Sometimes, a story.

Sometimes, just: “Zara, breathe. You’re doing okay.”

And I write back. Not to anyone. Just in my notebook.

I write to a boy I never met.

A boy who never saw me.

But somehow... knew me better than anyone else ever did.

Final Words:

People say we were never in love —

because we never hugged, kissed, or took photos together.

But what they don’t understand is:

Some souls meet in silence.

Some hearts write their own story — even if the world never sees the ink.

This was ours.