Ravi had lived in his ancestral home for as long as he could remember. The old wooden study table in his father’s room had always caught his attention, especially the small drawer on the right — the one that was always locked.

As a child, he had asked his father about it many times. The reply was always the same:
"Some things are meant to be kept safe, Ravi. You’ll know when the time is right."

Years passed. Life moved on. After his father passed away, the house felt emptier than ever. While sorting through old belongings one rainy afternoon, Ravi came across the table again. The locked drawer stared back at him, almost daring him to open it.

He searched through cupboards and shelves until he finally found a tiny brass key tucked inside an old diary. With trembling hands, he slid the key into the lock and turned it.

The drawer opened with a faint creak. Inside, there was no treasure, no hidden stash of money — just a bundle of neatly folded letters and a black-and-white photograph. The letters were from his mother, written to his father before they were married. His mother had passed away when Ravi was only a year old.

Through those letters, Ravi discovered a side of his parents he had never known — their dreams, their struggles, their unconditional love for each other, and for him. The photograph showed them smiling together, young and full of hope.

As he held the picture close, Ravi realized the locked drawer wasn’t about keeping secrets. It was about keeping memories safe until he was ready to understand them.

That day, the drawer was no longer locked. But in Ravi’s heart, the love it contained would remain forever secure.