Some stories deserve
one more chapter.

My Kuttu 🥰,

my Kanna · my Kunnu

I don't know whether a website can repair what two people have struggled to repair with words. Maybe it can't. But I know I don't want silence, distance, or difficult days to be the only things left between us.

So I wanted to give you something that feels slower than a text message — something you can read when you are ready, without me standing there waiting for an answer.

I'm sorry. For the moments my words hurt you. For the times I reacted instead of listening. For the times fear, anger, pride, assumptions, or my own stubbornness became bigger than the love I was trying to protect.

I know sorry does not erase what happened. And I don't want forgiveness to become another thing I ask you to give me on my timeline. You are allowed to feel hurt. You are allowed to be angry. You are allowed to take time.

Because I remember us too. I remember the silly conversations, the little things only we understood, the moments that were ordinary to everyone else but somehow special because they were ours.

I can't promise that I will never make another mistake. That would be an empty promise. What I can promise is that I will keep working on the things that hurt us: listening before reacting, communicating instead of assuming, pausing when anger takes over, respecting your need for space, and choosing understanding over pride.

I don't want to prove that I am right. I want to become someone who makes it easier for you to feel heard, respected, safe, and loved.

And Kuttu… whatever name you call me back by, I hope you know this much: the person who calls you Kuttu, Kanna, and Kunnu does it because those names feel like home in my heart.

I don't know what your answer will be. I won't force one. I only hope that one day, when you think about us, you remember that there was someone willing to look at his mistakes honestly and try to do better — not just say better things.