Vidhya found the old letter, she run through the words. It was tucked inside her grandmother’s diary, the ink slightly smudged but still legible. It was addressed to someone named Karthik.
“I wish I had told you sooner. If fate allows, meet me under the banyan tree.”
There was no date, no signature. Just those words.
Heart racing, Vidhya flipped through the diary. No other mention of Karthik. No clue if he ever came. She glanced out the window—toward the ancient banyan tree in their backyard.
For the first time, she noticed something carved into the bark:
“I came.”
I came
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