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Serendipity — A Message to the Wrong Number

Nandini.rastogi68
GENERAL LITERARY
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Submitted to Contest #5 in response to the prompt: 'You send a message to the wrong person. What happens next?'

The best way to feel light is to give in to your emotions—and if you can rant, even better.
But that luxury was never available to Amrita.
One such day, feeling completely dejected and emotionally drained, she didn’t even have the courage to stand up for what was right. She was bound by financial obligations, a demanding boss, an inflexible leave policy, and a family that expected her to earn and keep the engine running—no matter what.
She envied people who could express their anger freely—who could yell, scream, or shout. Amrita had never done that. Her emotional suppression had been so deep that even venting felt unfamiliar. She had mastered the art of being tolerant. sometimes she ignored, other times, she tolerated.
To survive, she had created a small, secret outlet. She had two mobile numbers—one official and one personal. On days when the burden became too much, she would send herself a message from one number to the other, like writing a letter to her own soul. More than escapism, this ritual became a coping mechanism for her.
She'd write about her boss, her family’s insensitivity, her children’s ingratitude, and her colleagues who misjudged her. It helped her breathe. It helped her take on one more day.
One such evening, she was feeling particularly low. So she wrote to herself:
“Dear Me,
Today is one of those days when I wish I could disappear.
Despite all the work I do, why does no one notice how I feel?
Why am I never given importance, not even by my own family?
Why is everything I do for my children never enough?
Why do I not feel loved by my spouse?
Even after 15 years of work, why do I still have to prove myself?
Why does this world favor the loud and flashy?
Why can't someone just do their job silently and still be respected?
Life is unpredictable. Life is unfair. Life is exhausting.
I wish I could find a solution.
I wish I could find someone to guide me.
But now that I've written this, I already feel a bit lighter.”
She pressed send.
Only later did she realize she had sent it to an unknown number.
The next morning, she was too busy preparing for a big office presentation to check her messages. Missed calls, voice notes, reminders—everything waited till night. Before going to bed, while scrolling through her inbox, she noticed a message from that same unknown number.
She opened it, confused and curious.
“You are a beautiful person.
The work you do is cherished by the universe.
Your loved ones may not say it, but your efforts matter.
If you ever need someone to listen, I’m here.
Don’t hesitate to reach out.”
Startled, Amrita realized what had happened—she had mistakenly sent her emotional message to a stranger. Embarrassed, she replied:
“Apologies, that message was sent by mistake. Kindly ignore. And... thanks for the kind words.”
Days passed. The stranger was forgotten.
Until one day, when her husband’s indifference left her feeling broken again. She didn’t want to burden her children, her elderly mother, or her friends. No one had the time—or space—for her pain.
That’s when she remembered the number.
She searched her phone history, found it, and typed a simple:
“Hello.”
Almost immediately, the reply came:
“Hello ! ( followed by a smiley emoji) How are you? Can I help in any way?”
Someone was asking her how she was. That single line overwhelmed her.
She poured her heart out—about her health, her exhaustion, her longing for emotional support, her disappointment. She didn't expect a reply.
But one came:
“You are your own greatest admirer.
You’re a wonderful mother—doing everything for your children.
A strong woman who has stood by a man dealing with his own unresolved pain.
Your work, your patience, your strength—they all matter.
You are enough.
Maybe it’s time you saw yourself as the woman you are—and stopped being your harshest critic.”
Amrita froze. It was as if this stranger knew her. Knew her deepest insecurities. Her patterns. Her thoughts.
She began to cry. For the first time in ages, she felt truly seen.
“Weren’t you always the one judging yourself too harshly?”
“The one who doubted every step?”
“Who never acknowledged her wins?”
“Wasn’t it time... to be your own friend?”
That night, Amrita found something she hadn’t felt in a long time—clarity. Through the clouds of ambiguity and confusion, she found the real herself who was no less than anybody else.
She looked at herself not through the lens of failure or fatigue, but with softness, compassion, and confidence. She realized she was doing more than enough. She was enough.
She typed back:
“Thank you for your kind words. I know I may have bothered you, but your message gave me clarity. I’ll always remember this.”
That one wrong message had led her to something precious—a friend. A soul who understood her. A mirror who reflected her light back to her.
That day, she saved the number.
She smiled at the name she gave it:
Serendipity.
Because sometimes, even a wrong number can have the right answers.

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Instragram - mymidnightplot \nhttps://notionpress.com/write_contest/details/6959/a-simple-yes-

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Beautifully written! I really enjoyed the depth and emotion in your story — I have given full 50 points to your well deserved story! Would love your thoughts on my story too—Overheard at the Edge of Goodbye: https://notionpress.com/write_contest/details/6116/overheard-at-the-edge-of-goodbye

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👍 ❤️ 👏 💡 🎉