Day 390, Letter #56 - By Luke Kathir

Written By: Luke Kathir

Category: Short Story

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

In the poignant short story, "Day 390, Letter #56," Luke Kathir delves into the depths of human emotion, weaving a narrative of love, loss, and the struggle to move on. As part of the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, this piece captures the essence of personal growth amidst life's unpredictable challenges. Through a series of heartfelt letters, Kathir offers readers a window into the complexities of healing, showcasing a journey that resonates with anyone who has ever faced the bittersweet task of letting go.

About the Work

"Day 390, Letter #56" is a deeply emotional narrative that captures the turmoil of a soul grappling with grief and the possibility of new beginnings. Luke Kathir employs a candid and introspective style, inviting readers into a world where love's enduring presence is felt through undelivered letters. The story's vivid imagery and raw emotional honesty explore themes of vulnerability and hope, leaving an indelible mark on the reader's heart.

Day 390, Letter #56

Original Submission by Luke Kathir

Day 390, Letter #56

Isn’t it funny how I’ve never stopped writing to you? 390 days since I’ve been regularly writing these god-forsaken letters, only for them to never be delivered. Only for you to never read them. What a joke. But still, I hope my words get through to you.

Somehow.

Anyways, I felt like this letter should be a little longer. So many things have been happening over the last week and I don’t know how to process them. Maybe a sign would be nice, but I really just want to vent.

First things first: I got a promotion. Now, I get paid 100 grand a year. I even received a year end bonus too. I’ve been awarded Employee of the Year. Surprisingly, everyone in the office likes me. And the few who didn’t, well, let’s say they were disposed of. You know my belief: the trash will eventually take itself out. With all this new money, I could probably fly back home soon. Work has been incredibly hectic though, perhaps the idea of flying back will have to take a backseat. But don’t worry, I’ve been feeling fine. Nothing that I can’t handle.

Second topic: A couple of days ago, I nearly got arrested. Someone saw me ‘acting suspiciously’ in the park and called the police on me. I had just wrapped up a meeting with my lawyer and was about to leave when cops showed up and tried to arrest me. They interrogated me and wanted to handcuff me but thankfully, my lawyer heard what was going on and immediately ran back to the scene. I had to give him props, he tore those cops up and berated them so hard, they nearly scurried away like little rats.

The law over here really sucks. I thought it was bad back home, but it’s so much worse here. Back home, racial profiling occurred constantly. It was always minor things, like being pulled over late at night, random questioning over ‘suspicious activity’, things of that sort. It was only today when I realised the true horrors of what happens here. It’s the kind of activity that could potentially end with you having a one-way ticket to the afterlife without even a proper trial or some sort of fairness.

When that event happened, I was filled with so much fear. Even now, I still had no clear idea as to why I was randomly pulled over, aside from the colour of my skin. A loaded gun pointed to my temple, I thought I would end up with a bullet in my head. Memories of my life flashed into my head. My mom, dad, siblings, friends. Imagine if that happened. I guess at least I’ll get to join you, right?

Sorry, that was distasteful. A little bit too soon, huh.

As soon as I got home, I fell to the floor. I was having a panic attack. A really, really bad one. Worse than anything I’ve ever experienced before. I just laid on the carpet, shaking and gripping the rough fibres until my fingernails bled, crying my eyes out as I gasped for air. I couldn’t breathe. The room was suffocating, the four pearl-white walls surrounding me closing in. My heart was racing at 100 kilometres per hour, my skin growing clammy. I had never understood the phrase “an out-of-the-body experience” before this, but I truly got a taste of it with this massive panic attack. In that moment, nothing could be worse. Not even death. Nothing has ever gotten me feeling like this before, nothing except…

…

Except your departure.

Huh, I guess I can actually mention it. It feels like a curse, dark words that were never meant to be said. It feels weird to write it down then say it out loud, but I guess I’ve already started to mentally embrace reality.

Surprisingly, what saved me was Mateo. He came home, and saw me panicking incapacitated, and did his best to help me out. He firmly held my hand in his, whispered comforting assurances into my ear, telling me that this too, shall pass. With him being my roommate, we’ve gotten pretty close and he’s helped me out in some of my episodes. This isn’t my first panic attack, definitely, but most certainly the worst. I’ll admit, I might’ve scared him a little when he saw me in such a severe condition, but the fact that he stuck around despite his fear really means a lot to me.

Speaking of, I wanted to tell you about him too. Mateo… well… he asked me out. On a date. After the panic attack, he just hugged me for a while and held me tightly, making sure I was eventually okay. He even made sure that my fingernails had stopped bleeding and I was fully recovered. I haven’t told him what happened yet, and I promised I will soon. I then took a shower to reset my system, and he cooked dinner for us. He checked up on me everyday after, making sure that I was alright. Y’know, that I wasn’t starving myself, I wasn’t feeling horrible, or anything of that sort. And a few days later, once I had fully recuperated, he popped the question. In exactly five days from now, at seven in the evening, he wants to take me out for dinner. He made it clear that it was a date, expressing that he had feelings for me.

Really, despite my current state, the absolute mess that I am, he wants to go out with me? I haven’t given him an answer yet, saying that I’ll let him know in a few days. But the truth is, what do I even say? “Oh, you’re really gorgeous and all but I’m still hung up over my ex who died in a tragic car accident over a year ago”. God, that makes me sound like such a loser, doesn’t it? You and I broke up even before you died.

I could sit here and say that I’m not actively looking for anyone because I’ve yet to move on. But that would be a small lie, I fear. I’ve written about this before in our past letters. You’re not with me anymore. I’ve managed to accept that at least a few months ago. But just how can I move on completely? It’s not cheating for me to start dating anyone. You’re gone, and there’s nothing I can do about that. I should be looking forward. Not turning back.

So why do I still feel guilty?

We’ve discussed before that I deserve to move on. I don’t blame anyone for what happened anymore. Not even myself. Accepting that what had happened was not my fault and I could not change the outcome of it was the toughest lesson in my life, but I’ve learned to accept it. I deserve happiness. The million dollar question is this: Does my personal happiness mean putting myself out there?

Perhaps I’m scared of losing someone again. Maybe that’s why I’ve been so afraid to find love again. The universe took you away from me in the most cruel way imaginable. If I let myself truly fall in love, only for them to meet the same, tragic fate, I don’t think I could live with myself anymore.

Looking at Mateo, he’s been a great friend. Understanding, caring, entertaining, extremely helpful too, what’s not to love? Not to mention, oh my god, his body is a work of art. I may be hung up, but I’ll be blind to deny the fact that he didn’t have the charming looks. It was as if his body was sculpted by Michelangelo himself. The definition of perfection. Chiseled jawline, kind gorgeous eyes, a warm smile, muscles rippling out of every single inch of his skin, oh my lord.

Earlier, I decided to let my mind be a bit more open and try to imagine what life would look like with Mateo as my partner. Sure, we were living in a country where things were pretty dangerous. A bleak, dystopian nightmare under the guise of modernism. But at least I could get to marry him, settle down, have a family, adopt a bunch of cats, dogs, a couple of birds, why not, those kinds of things. Y’know what, forget all of that, I could hold hands with him in public and only a few would bat an eyelid, if any.

We never quite had that experience. Being together back at home felt so restricting. Oh, how I wish I could’ve held hands with you in public. Given you soft kisses on your cheek, just like how you liked them. Fallen asleep on your shoulder while on the train. It wasn’t really anything big, but staying here had made me realise that it was the little things in life that I wanted the most. What’s the point of being together when we were living in constant fear of, well, the world?

But with Mateo, we have a chance. Sure, it wasn’t a guarantee when we have geriatrics constantly debating our rights, but still better than nothing. Maybe I could finally be happy with him.

You would’ve loved Mateo too. Not only would you have found him attractive, you would’ve fallen for him too. He’s such an amazing human being, I couldn’t believe that he was real.

You know what? Screw it, I’ll be upfront about what I’m currently feeling. He deserves to know the whole truth. It’s a start, at least. As for answering his proposal…

—

I heard knocking on my door. A voice called out softly, “Hayden? You asleep already?”

It was Mateo himself. Of course he’d come up and check on me while I was writing about him. “N-not yet… come in.”

The door gently swung open as Mateo walked in, his steps as silent as a mouse. He took a seat on my bed.

“You said you were gonna go to bed.”

I chuckled. He was right, I did tell him that I was going to retire early for the night. “Just writing my diary entry for today,” I partially lied, mostly because I wasn’t sure how to explain why I wrote letters to my dead ex-boyfriend. “I promise I’ll go to sleep after this.”

He seemed satisfied by this answer. “Ah, well, I just wanted to check up on you. If, uh, if you ever need anything, just let me know, okay? Even if you have to wake me up, I swear it’s fine.”

My heart fluttered a little. The fact that he was still checking up on me and doing his best to foster a safe space made me appreciate him even more. “Thanks, I appreciate it. Really.”

A soft smile danced across Mateo’s lips. “Don’t mention it.”

I stretched my arms out, silently asking for a hug. He quickly stood up, came over to my study table and wrapped me in his embrace. A sense of warmth and security emanated from him, making me feel safe. I basked in the subtle vanilla scent from his shampoo before pulling away.

“Can I see what you’re writing?” he asked innocently, curiosity clearly getting the better of him.

I rolled my eyes and deadpanned. “No.”

“Aww, but come on!” he whined like a little child. I found it funny whenever he did this. It stirred a laugh out of me.

“One day, I promise I’ll tell you all about it, okay? All in good time.”

“You really don’t have to, honestly. It’s your privacy, but if you want to open up, I’m right here. Get some rest, Hayden. Good night.”

“Good night, Mateo.” I replied softly as I watched him leave slowly.

I sat back down on my study table, putting my focus back onto the letter.

—

Well, Mateo just came in to check up on me. And in that moment, I got reminded why I liked even merely just as a friend.

With him as a partner…

…

I think I’ll say yes. Let’s see how this date goes.

I’m not asking for your permission to move on, but if you ever get to this, all I ask is for you to be happy for me.

[Word Count: 2034]

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 by Hashtag Kalakar is a prestigious platform celebrating the diverse voices of writers and poets worldwide. This annual event invites participants to share their unique perspectives and creative expressions, fostering a vibrant community of literary talent. Emphasizing artistic excellence and innovation, the competition serves as a beacon for emerging and established writers alike.

Thank you, Luke Kathir, for sharing "Day 390, Letter #56" with the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. Your story offers a profound exploration of love and healing, resonating with many who have walked a similar path. We appreciate your contribution and look forward to witnessing your continued journey in the world of creative writing.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.