Episode 1 :The Letter from Russia

Arya Choudhury leaned back in her chair, staring at the half-written page on her laptop. The blinking cursor mocked her, almost as if it knew how stuck she was.

She had been working on her new novel for weeks, but something just didn’t feel right. The story was supposed to be her big comeback, yet no matter how much she wrote, the characters felt… empty.

Her male lead had no personality yet. Should he be cold and arrogant? Or warm and caring? Every time she tried, she ended up recycling the same old patterns she’d written before tragic one-sided love stories, bittersweet endings, lonely hearts.

Her readers had noticed, too.

Just last night, she had scrolled through the comments on her last book post.

“Please, unni, write a happy ending this time.”

“Why do you always make the second male lead suffer?”

“We want both leads to find love, not just one!”

Arya sighed, resting her chin on her palm. “A happy ending, huh? Maybe this time… I could try.”

But try with what? Her mind was a blank canvas.

As she was about to close the document, the door creaked open. Her assistant, Nabila, peeked inside, holding an envelope in her hand.

“Didi, this came for you. From the post office.”

Arya blinked. “A letter? In this age of emails?”

Nabila shrugged and placed it on her desk. “It looks important. Maybe from a publisher?”

Curiosity stirred. Arya reached for the envelope and carefully tore it open. Her eyes widened the moment she saw the letterhead ornate, with a seal she didn’t recognize.

It wasn’t from a publisher.

It was an invitation.

“To Ms. Arya Choudhury,

You are cordially invited to the private art exhibition of Mikhail Volkov, to be held in Moscow, Russia…”

Her lips parted in disbelief. “Russia? An art exhibition?”

She stared at the paper as if it might vanish. She had never even been outside Bangladesh before. Why would anyone in Russia invite her?

Clutching the letter, she hurried out of her room and found her mother arranging flowers in the living room. “Amma, look at this!”

Her mother adjusted her glasses and read the invitation. For a moment, silence filled the air. Then her mother sighed deeply, as though a door from the past had opened.

“Arya… it’s time you know something.”

Arya’s heart skipped. “Know what?”

Her mother placed the letter down and sat beside her. “Your grandfather. The man you always asked me about… He wasn’t just a businessman. He had a best friend. A Russian. They were like brothers, closer than anyone could imagine.”

Arya leaned forward, eager. “And this best friend… is connected to this?”

Her mother nodded. ''Yes. This exhibition—it’s by his grandson. Mikhail Volkov. Your grandfather and his grandfather shared a bond that even distance couldn’t break.''

'Then why didn’t you ever tell me?' Arya whispered.

Because some stories are too heavy for the young to carry. Her mother’s eyes softened. But now… perhaps it’s time. Still, Arya, remember this go if you must, but don’t stay. See the exhibition, meet them, and then return home. Promise me.

Arya clutched the invitation, her heart racing. She could feel something pulling her an invisible thread tying her fate to this letter.

Her grandfather’s secret. A Russian connection. And a story waiting to be uncovered.

She nodded, though her lips curved in a faint smile. Don’t worry, Mother. I’ll only stay a few days.

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