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She sat down furiously and began to write.

I have been meaning to write you a letter, Rohit. I have delayed it number of times. I have slunk back into my comfort zone too. But I think it is time, time to say what I feel without worrying. I am tired of this cat and mouse game we have played for ten years. Me hiding from you and the confrontations we must have. It has been avoided on two accounts; one I am scared to bring it up and two you are scared to bring it up. I have reached a point in my life when tiptoeing around the issue is out of the question. We are adults and it should be dealt with that way.

It wasn’t so long ago that we went our separate ways. The divorce was but natural. In fact, it was the best thing that happened to me. Thankfully, we never had any children. There weren’t any other lives we could have ruined. Just ours. Now that the matter is done and dusted, I would be grateful that we completely forget that the other exists. If possible, destroy all physical evidence of our hopeless marriage. Mental evidence is not as easy as lighting a bonfire to burn our photos and letters.

But it seems it will be tougher for me. So I find myself writing you this letter, informing you of my plans. Don’t call. Don’t write. Try to not even think of me.


She set her pen down to re-read the letter quickly. She walked out into her garden, lit a cigarette, held the letter in one hand and burnt it. “Adios, Rohit,” she said with a smile. She watched the paper burn with lightness in her heart. The heaviness from all that heart ache was burned to a crisp.

It was after all that easy.