“Epilogue: After the Last Page”

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40 years later. Nobita and Dekisugi are in their 60s, still living in Tokyo, now surrounded by a slower, gentler life.

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The apartment was filled with sunlight, the walls lined with photo frames.

One showed young Nobita holding his first published book, eyes wide with disbelief.

Another showed Dekisugi mid-lecture, grinning proudly.

But the one they both loved most stood by the window—an old picture of two teenagers in school uniforms, arms slung around each other.

And next to it: a small, slightly cracked photo of Doraemon.

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Their Daily Routine

Mornings began with Nobita making tea, humming badly off-tune, while Dekisugi read the news aloud.

Afternoons were for tending the little balcony garden—roses, mint, and stubborn tulsi.

And evenings? Evenings were for rereading their old journals—year after year of shared thoughts, anniversaries, arguments, apologies, and tiny victories. A paper trail of love.

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One Rainy Afternoon

Nobita was going through a box of old school things when he found it.

A sealed letter, slightly yellowed, tucked inside a pocket of his middle school backpack.

His breath caught.

The handwriting was unmistakable.

Doraemon.

Hands trembling, he opened it.

“Dear Nobita,

If you’re reading this, I’m probably just a memory now.

I want you to know I always believed in you.

Not because you were perfect—but because you cared.

About people. About stories. About dreaming, even when it hurt.

I hope you’re smiling as you read this.

I hope you’re loved.

And I hope you finally saw what I always saw in you.

Thank you for letting me be part of your life.

Love,

Doraemon.”

Nobita sat there for a long time, tears streaming silently.

Dekisugi found him like that and didn’t ask. He simply sat beside him and held his hand.

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Later That Evening

They sat on their rooftop, watching the stars.

“I still miss him,” Nobita whispered.

“I know,” Dekisugi replied. “So do I.”

“But I think… he’d be proud of us.”

Dekisugi smiled. “I think so too.”

They didn’t speak for a while.

Just leaned on each other—two boys who had grown up, grown old, and never stopped choosing one another.

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The Final Page

Many years later, when their grandniece inherited the journals, she opened one and read the last entry.

It was written by Dekisugi, in careful, aging script.

“To the next dreamers who find this—

Know that love is not always loud. It is quiet. Steady. Made of mornings and forgiveness.

It is in the choice to stay.

And if you’re lucky, like I was… it lasts a lifetime.”

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[The End – What We Never Said]

With this, the story ends here.

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I wanted to end this but…

I still have to write it in certain word. I am finished with writing it but it won’t upload. I have to timepass till then.

Ignore it like you guys ignore your future as me!!!

Finally, end…

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