Nadia

"Call me Nadia"
"Nadia... Hmm Carefree!" he says with a playful smile.
"Careful", corrects Nadia with an impressive confidence that penetrated his heart deeply.
Nadia seemed to him like a radiant sun. Whenever she smiled, he lost his breath. He was captivated by her daring confidence and 'carefree' laugh.

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I am sorry. I will have to stop since there is no Nadia here. I love this name. And I was just imagining about her.
Here is another part which I wrote and it seemed to be a more authentic part although which is not so romantic like her name.
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Call me Nadia in this story. Do not over do the story. He never ill treated me or called me names. We always remained on the verge of being good friends. Though I urge you to write in the end : She dies of hunger, a hunger for simple and deep conversations.

Yours,
....

I found this mail today. I have been thinking about her lately. An impressive intellect who eventually reduced herself to her family. Although I was quite disappointed to know that her husband treated her fairly. There was no story at all. It was a tale of almost all women on the earth. So, I lied to her. I lied that I was working on the story. And the moment I lied, she began to haunt me. I kept seeing her in my dreams and in nightmares I saw myself as Nadia, who sat by her window and waited to pour out her heavy heart. She had the heaviest heart I ever knew.

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Did I disappoint you with my story? I hope not... But if I did,  I promise I would find a better structure and conclusion for it. Someday, may be.