Romance
When the Call Came at Midnight
The rain that night wasn’t just rain. It felt heavier, like the sky was trying to wash the city away. I had just set my phone on silent when it buzzed. Unknown number. No name, no country code. Against every instinct, I answered.
By Saba Writesabout a year ago in Chapters
After The Sunset The Stars As My Witness. Content Warning.
Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months and months turned into uncertainty. Perseus held his face, elbow pressed against the table. The captain and his crew drowned out his thoughts with their drunken slurred tales most of them made up trying to outshine the other sailors. Everyone shouting at the top of their lungs, all their words meshing up to what a disaster could sound like. Perseus thought he would have gotten used to this by now, but the more he was around them the more annoyed he was by them. He couldn't lash out either because he needed them to get to wherever the gorgon resided. An eye and a tooth he silently recited over and over again like saying it would manifest whatever his clue was. Gently tagging on his inner lip with his teeth he stared at the wooden mouldy fungi-infested ceiling. He drew up images like he would the stars. An eye and a tooth he continued to recite. A cyclope maybe… he thought while picturing a friendly cyclope from the last time he had encountered one as a child. It did have an eye but did it have one tooth? He asked, squinting his eyes tightly as if that would make him travel faster through the memory or at least make it a bit clearer. “Perseus!” One of the crew members, Peggon, aggressively nudged, abruptly interrupting his journey through his mind. Everything he said after calling Perseus was a chain of slurred words that almost sounded like a different language. Every time Peggon paused to breathe Perseus would nod to appear attentive, patiently waiting for Peggon to find a new victim to drown in his words. He looked past Peggon, hoping to find something to distract him as he pretended. His eyes locked with young men who had already been watching him. “Not him again” he whispered under his breath “Peggon I hate to interrupt, but I have to go outside for a bit” Peggon laughed saying something inaudible as he made space for Perseus to move. Outside he anxiously yet patiently waited for the young man to follow him, which the young man did shortly. “What now,” Perseus asked not even trying to hide how annoyed he was, that had been the 8th time that day Hermes had appeared out of nowhere disguised as someone else. “For the same reason I have been paying you a visit,” Hermes said, eyeing Perseus’ “I have the feeling you are not taking good care of my majestic sandal,” Hermes sighed aggressively a white cloud of breath escaped into the cold night. “Like all the 8 times you visited today alone and the millions of times you have shown up, I have not worn the sandals yet” “Well I have to see for myself, I don’t trust demi-gods,” He said grabbing the bag “Not god enough to be amongst gods not human enough to exist here” He carelessly searched the bag cutting himself with the sword that was hidden in the bag “Ouch, Ouch, Ouch” He tried to suppress the intensity of the pain, but the way he winced, threw the bag and shook gave it away. Perseus pretended not to notice what happened but the smirk on his face that tried to conceal his laughter shimmered in the dark. Hermes snapped at the site of this “You see, you can't even be responsible enough to wrap up such a sharp object,” Perseus responded with suppressed chuckles that escaped through his nose. Hermes ignored him as he emptied the bag. He held his Sandals inspecting them with the aim to find damage. “Find anything?” Perseus asked unconcerned. “Uh-huh,” Hermes jolted after looking into the bag again. “I was hoping you would show concern,” Hermes sarcastically said, showing Perseus a feather barb pinched between his thumb and index. Perseus squinted his eyes trying to figure out what he was supposed to be seeing. Hermes wiggled his wrist closer to Perseus, and there it was, thinner than a strand of hair. “Well how do I avoid this next time,” he sarcastically shrugged. “I don't know, Perseus. Maybe a fortune teller or better yet wrap the sword” Hermes ripped a part of his clothing to wrap the sword “A fortune teller,” Perseus responded “Well no. The option you were supposed to pick was to ‘wrap the sword’,” He wrapped the sword and packed everything away. “No, I meant I could use a fortune teller,” Hermes looked at Perseus worried “I don't think they could help” “Why not,” “Because you are already being assisted by the divine,” Hermes tilted his head “Can you assist me?” “On a condition,” He smiled “I keep the sandals and return them during your emergencies” “And how to summon you when I'm in an emergency” “Like so…” he sat on a barrel, rubbed his hands back and forth 4 times, then clicked his fingers twice, then joined his hands with a clap in front of his chest as though praying. “No” Perseus frowned “I don't have time for games” he dismissed “Then you really don't need my assistance,” He walked into the darkness “You know I can find them myself,” He yelled, He could but it would take longer without Hermes’ help. “Fine,” he said, causing Hermes to stop and turn to face him, “I agree,” he said gently chewing his inner cheeks. Hermes slightly squinted his eyes to study the eagerness as he approached Perseus. “As long Athena agrees with it,” he said with a devilish smirk “14 days is all I'm offering” Hermes didn't look offended but a little impressed and annoyed “Fine, Close to us right now are two Zolinae and Hovam. Zolinae would be the best option, a little playful, she could be a little distraction,” He sheepishly smiled “The best I’ve set eyes on, she travels a lot to help and assist people. Let me take you to her,” He begins to lead the way. “And Hovam?” Perseus curiously asked. “The devil,” he said with a disgruntled tone and posture “Working with him is like signing a deal with the devil, and from what I’ve seen he doesn’t have the gift but plays the role so perfectly, I’m almost impressed” “I want Hovam, lead me to him,” Perseus nodded. Hermes didn't argue but the discomfort on his face with Perseus’ decision spoke louder than his silence. “Here we are,” Hermes pointed at the only other house lit in the dark street. “And Cyclops don't have one tooth,” He softly smiled, rolling his eyes before leaving. Perseus watched as Hermes blended into the darkness. Perseus walked towards the house, the door was slightly opened, but before he could knock on the door, a woman busted gently through the doorway with a child. When she saw Perseus she nodded with a faint smile to acknowledge his presence, then walked off into the night leaving the door open. A man followed and stood by the entrance. “How can I help you?” The man asked calmly with a hint of defensiveness. “Homav, I'm here in search of him” Perseus responded, trying not to look or sound like a threat. “He isn’t available till the morning,” The man said, exiting the house to lock up. “I can’t wait till the morning, it is an emergency,” he politely protested, fighting the urge to beg. “It’s late,” he dismissed and walked away. “I am Persues the son of Zeus,” He introduced himself as he followed the man. The man continued striding on. Did he not know who Zeus was? Perseus wondered to himself. Medusa. His mind pounced. “I’m on a quest…” the man paced faster as if trying to run. “To retrieve the head of the mortal gorgon…” the man’s pace began to slow down “Medusa” Perseus said, the man instantly halted in his tracks. Wide eyed, he stared Perseus up and down before he strolled back into the house. Perseus stood outside the door for a short while that felt like aeon. “Hovam is ready to see you” he bowed his head signalling his hand towards the dark passage that had a light peeking from underneath the door. Perseus walked carefully towards the door as the man followed behind. When he got to the door he turned to the man behind him waiting for a signal from his silhouette, the man nodded. Perseus slid the door meeting eyes with a round older man, well dressed and at ease as though he had been anticipating this meeting. On the table he sat behind were a deck of tarot cards, crystal balls that look like enormous pearls dancing with different waves of color within and bowls displayed behind him filled with jewels and crystals. “Welcome,” Hovam signalled to the brittle looking chair in front of him.Gently he sat as he nodded acknowledgingly. “I hear you are the son of Zeus insearch of the gorgon” “Yes,” Perseus responded. “What’s in it for me?” Hovam raised an eye brow “I’m going to pay your services” Hovam scratched his chin looking at the man who brought Perseus, he stood still behind like a statue. “Give me its head when you’ve retrieved it” He said still looking at the man “I have already promised its head to another,” “That's all I need from you, son of Zeus,” “And what if it doesnt exist?” “It does,” the man behind Perseus argued “And have you seen it” Perseus turned to face him “Well…,” he stopped to see if Hovam approved. “Let’s say it doesn’t exist,” Hovam scratched underneath his chin “What did you have in mind,” he responded eyebrows furrowed still facing the man who was avoiding eye contact. “Well…” Hovam cleared his throat “Have you heard of a monoceros, a stallion with a majestic horn in the center of its head” Perseus had encountered it before but was uncomfortable about recounting that encounter. He simply shook his head, faking curiosity and ignorance. “Bring its horn to me instead even if the gorgon exists since the head has been promised to another,” “You have a deal” Perseus looked at the tarot cards “Now for where I can find the gorgon” “Hunclox,” he signalled to the man behind Perseus “Medusa is hidden by some supernatural being. Neither my tarot cards nor my crystal ball can give you the answer you so desire,” Impatience slowly brewed within Perseus, fighting the urge to pounce onto the other side of the table. “So you don’t know where it is?” he clenched his jaw. “no one does,” Hovam shuffled his deck of tarot. “But Hunclox has met a woman who has met the gorgon and survived it,” placing his cards back on the table “He will go on this quest with you,” “And maybe you show me the head when you return,” He smirks. Perseus was almost there. As for his mother, Danae, she had overstayed her visit the moment she mentioned Perseus. Testing her father’s patience every day she tried to convince him the prophecy was a hoax. “Your return was meant to be exciting but you truly havent lost your touch with raining on a good day,” King Acrisius dismissed what Danae had said. “What would his motive be to kill you, father? You're his grandfather, his family?” Danae continued inquisitively. “Well its better we don't find out,” Danae stared at her mother hoping she would defend Perseus but Queen Eurydice focused on her meal and paid no attention to the conversation like the many times Danae’s had brought it up since she arrived months ago. “He is a respectful, smart, brave man and has a big kind heart like no other,” Danae said pridefully. “And?” The King shrugged unimpressed. “Father, if you must know,” Danae paused, preparing herself to dish out Perseus’ whereabouts. “He is on a quest as we speak, a very dangerous quest…” Saying this made her hope Perseus would succeed “To behead the gorgon,” Instantly the queen pulled her eyes away from her food shooting a glare at her Daughter and then her husband who seemed to have lost his speech all of a sudden. “Medusa?” Her mother asked, concerned. Danae nodded contently. “Alone?”Eurydice asked. “Yes,” Danae nodded. “Danae!” Her mother snapped “Armies that have gone after the gorgon have never returned, and you let him go alone,” Eurydice’s concern turned into disappointment “He could die out th…” “Mama…” Danae tried to intercept “For someone who has been preaching love for your son. You sure have a funny way of showing it” Eurydice interrupted. “Mama…” She caught her breath, “Perseus has never failed, He shall find the gorgon and behead it…Imagine the respect and power that will surround your kingdom. The kingdoms surrounding us will be singing praises. You need to welcome him to Argos so everyone knows who he is to the King,” She gently placed her hand on her father’s hand. She was beginning to sound like Perseus. “And he will bring her head,” He finally broke from his trance. Danae nodded with a smile of certainty. The King smiled seemingly impressed, contemplating welcoming his grandson back into the Kingdom, then suddenly he heard the words from the oracle years ago echoing the prophecy in his mind, His face instantly emulated disgust, annoyance and anger. “And what if he uses the gorgon’s head to kill me?” The king lifted himself from the table charging towards the exit. “You don't understand,” Danae cried “My son is in exile over a prophecy he doesn't even know about and unlike you I care about my child,” The King didn't respond or wait to hear what she had to say.
By Ropafadzo Thokozani Zinyuke (Fadzo) about a year ago in Chapters
MY CRUEL LOVE, CHAPTER 3
My Cruel Love That same night, with her mind still reeling from the club owner's words, Maya stood before the towering gates of the Shahriyar estate.. Maya stepped out of the local taxi. and stood before the towering iron gate of the Shahriyar estate. This was the house she was meant to enter as a bride. Instead, she was arriving as something else — a woman bought and delivered. After the wedding, Arman had never brought her here. The ceremony had taken place at her father's modest home. He had uttered the words "I accept" and vanished. Just like that. He went straight back to his upscale flat and left a final warning — if she ever stepped foot in his family home, he'd leave the country and never return. Arman's mother, unwilling to risk losing her only son, had left Maya at her father's doorstep. Maya had been devastated, but she had held herself together. For her father. He was all she had left in this world. Now, standing at the entrance of a home that had once symbolized a dream, she called out to the guard. When he asked who she was, she hesitated. What could she say? After a pause, she finally managed, "Mr. Arman asked me to come. He wants to talk. The guard made a call, and after a brief exchange with the housemaid, the gate opened. Maya walked in. The sight before her was surreal — like something from a movie. A royal-style duplex mansion bathed in warm lights, surrounded by a manicured garden and stone pathways leading in different directions. In the center, a marble fountain sparkled under the night sky. The garden trees were strung with fairy lights, lighting up the night like daylight. For a moment, Maya forgot why she was here. As she neared the main door, the weight of reality returned. Her fingers trembled as she pressed the bell. Inside, Arman sat on a plush sofa in his bedroom, head tilted back, eyes shut, one hand resting on his forehead. His thoughts were a chaotic mess. After leaving the club, he'd gone to his office but couldn't focus. Maya's voice kept echoing in his mind. Her words. her attitude. the way she said she'd moved on. He couldn't believe it. The same woman who had returned his money and handed him divorce papers — was now selling herself? Willingly? He knew she hadn't been with anyone before. The bloodstains on the bed told him everything. And yet, she had lied — claimed she wasn't a virgin. Why? Why would she make herself look cheap in his eyes? Restless and furious, he'd made a call. One call to the club owner, and he'd bought Maya. For a month. She should be arriving any minute now. Arman leaned back, annoyed with himself. Why had he done this? Why had he dragged her back into his life? This wasn't about love anymore. Or was it? He tried to clear his head. He had divorced Maya for one reason: Maisha. His first and only love. The woman who had vanished without a trace. Where was she? Was she even alive? He shook the thought away. No — she had to be alive. He'd find her. One day. A knock broke his chain of thought. "Come in," he said. Ruby, his personal maid, entered. She was in her mid-twenties and took care of everything in the house — cooking, laundry, cleaning. Everything. "Sir, the girl you were expecting has arrived," she said politely. Arman didn't need to ask who. He nodded. "Send her to my room. And if I need anything, I'll call. "Yes, sir. Ruby left, and moments later, another knock came. This time, it was Maya. "Come in," Arman said. She stepped in slowly. Her eyes immediately found him sitting there, calm and cold. Arman didn't look at her. "So. you finally made it. Took your sweet time. Maya gave him a crooked smile. Well, according to my manager, you rented me for a full month, Mr. Arman Shahriyar. I didn't realize my services were that impressive. Because of you, my other clients were disappointed tonight. I had someone else scheduled, actually. Got ready and everything. But when I reached the club, they said I had to come to you. So. here I am. Every word was a calculated jab. Arman stood up, clenching his fists, scanning her from head to toe. "This is what you wore for someone else?" he asked, voice laced with sarcasm. "She was dressed modestly — in ethnic wear, her hair partially covered with a long scarf. "I was going to change at the hotel," she said, stammering slightly. "You can't walk around in a sexy outfit on the street. Arman let out a dry laugh. "So, you're ashamed of the job, but not ashamed to sell yourself? And still have the decency to care about public decency? That's rich. Maya's heart twisted, but she didn't flinch. "Let's just get this over with, shall we? I'd like to finish what I'm here for and leave. Arman's eyes darkened. "You're in such a rush? Fine. Make me dinner. And I want it from you — not a maid. And I don't want a maid touching it. I want you to cook it. With your own hands. Maya blinked, stunned. "I'm sorry — what did you just say? "You heard me," Arman said, stepping closer. "I said cook. Maya frowned. "Do I look like your maid? That's not what I was brought here for. You know exactly why I'm here — and it's not to be your personal chef. Arman leaned in, his voice dangerously soft, brushing past her ear." I've paid for your time. For one month. From now on, you're mine — and mine alone. Your job is to satisfy me. In every way. You'll do exactly as I say. No questions. No attitude. No other men. Got it? Maya stepped back, chilled to her core. "Yes, Yes, you paid for my time—but not to be your servant. We both know what this deal was supposed to be. The rest? That's not in the deal. Arman raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you read the contract before signing? It clearly says — for thirty days, you follow all my instructions. Whether it's cooking, cleaning, or anything else — you do it. Maya's face twisted in confusion. "What contract? I didn't see anything like that. "Really?" he challenged. "Didn't your boss give you a file before you left the club? Didn't he ask you to sign it? And just like that — the memory came crashing back. Before she left the lounge, her manager had stopped her. Handed her a document and said it was just routine paperwork for all employees. Without thinking much, she had signed it. He had also given her a file to deliver to Arman. She quickly reached into her bag and pulled it out. There it was. A legal-looking contract — signed by her. As her eyes scanned the terms, her entire world crumbled. To be continued.
By Story writesabout a year ago in Chapters
MY CRUEL LOVE,CHAPTER 2
My Cruel Love That same night, after Maya agreed to Arman's cruel deal, He kissed her with a brutal hunger, leaving her lips torn. It wasn't passion—it was punishment. A cruel release of the rage he had bottled up inside him. But Maya didn't fight it. She just. took it. Silent. Still. Broken. What followed was primitive, carnal—but completely loveless. Just Arman's fury, unleashed on her like poison, draining what little strength she had left. And still, Maya smiled. She bore it all without flinching, hiding her agony behind a practiced calm. Arman stayed the entire night. Morning. Arman stepped out of the bathroom, hair damp, shirt buttoned, face emotionless. Maya went in next and locked the door. As soon as she turned the tap, the tears began. Hot. Heavy. Endless. Covering her mouth with one hand, she sobbed quietly under the running water. Red and blue bruises lined her skin—proof of Arman's cruelty. Her body ached. But her heart. that hurt more. When she finally emerged, her pain still radiated from her fragile frame. Arman was already dressed, ready to leave. Without a word, he pulled a check from his coat pocket and tossed it at her. "Here," he said, tossing a check without emotion. "For your time. Maya bent down and picked up the check. Not a flicker of shame. Only a bitter smile as she read the amount. She looked up and said softly, "Thank you, sir. I hope the performance was satisfactory—just like any business transaction. Feel free to call again. Arman's jaw clenched. He stormed toward her, grabbed her hair, and yanked her close. She gasped but didn't resist. His eyes burned into hers. "Never," he spat. "Arman Shahriar doesn't sleep with the same woman twice. Feigning mild disappointment, Maya shrugged. "Oh, really? "I suppose I'll just take on someone else. This city never runs out of men with money and egos. Anyway, I have an appointment tonight. Need to shop, dress up, be ready. So if you'll excuse me. Clutching the check, she walked out with a toss of her hair. Arman stood there, stunned. Another appointment tonight? His chest tightened. A wave of unfamiliar rage surged through him. She can sleep with the whole damn city for all I care, he told himself. What is she to me? And with that thought, he walked out. Later. At the hospital. Maya's phone had blown up with missed calls. She rushed in and entered a doctor's cabin. "There you are!" the doctor exclaimed. "We've been calling all night. Why didn't you answer? "I'm so sorry," Maya said, trying to catch her breath. "I was.caught up. How is he? The doctor's face turned somber. "He got worse last night. He kept asking for you. That's why we tried so many times. Maya's heart sank. "How is he now?" she whispered. "He's stable. For now. Chemotherapy has started, but. it's the final stage. We're trying a new treatment, but the odds—frankly—aren't good. Are you sure you want to keep spending so much money? Maya's eyes filled with tears. "What are you saying, doctor? He's my whole world. I can't lose him—not yet. The doctor nodded gently. "Then be strong. We've started the chemo. Please make sure the bills are cleared—the meds are very expensive. "I'll manage," Maya said softly. "Just keep the treatment going." She entered the hospital ward quietly. The man on the bed looked like a shadow of his former self—skin stretched thin over bones, most of his hair gone, breath shallow. Her father. Maya smiled through her heartbreak and sat beside him. When he saw her, his eyes lit up. His frail hand trembled as he reached out to her. "Dad" Maya whispered, taking his hand. "How are you feeling? I spoke to the doctor—he says you'll be up and dancing again soon. Just wait. Ashraf Talukder knew better. He wasn't afraid of dying. He was afraid for her. She was his daughter—his only one. Beautiful. Pure. And alone. He remembered how their families had once planned her marriage with Arman Shahriar, a childhood pact between two old friends. The wedding had happened, but Arman had never accepted her. He'd refused to even take her home. Arman's grandfather had believed Maya was the only woman who could handle him. But after his death, Arman shut her out completely. Back in the ward, Ashraf looked at his daughter and said weakly, "Don't give me false hope, sweet girl. I know what's coming. I'm not afraid of death—I'm afraid for you. This hospital. it's expensive. How are you affording this? "Dad, please." Maya interrupted quickly. "Don't say things like that. You'll recover. The doctor said the treatment's working. He pressed again, "Maya. where's this money coming from? You're not doing anything wrong, are you? Before he could finish, Maya said with a smile, "No, dad. I got a job. A multinational. Took a loan. Everything's legal. I promise. Ashraf frowned slightly, but Maya held his hand tighter. "You know how much I love you, right? I won't let anything happen to you. He stroked her hair gently. As she sat beside him, Maya's heart bled silently. Her mother had died when she was little. Her marriage had shattered. Now her father was the only person she had left. And even he was slipping away. She thought to herself: "I'm sorry, dad. I wish I could tell you the truth. But I can't. To keep you alive, I've crossed lines I never thought I would. I may not recognize myself anymore. But I can't watch you die. Please forgive me. That night. After feeding her father and giving him his medicine, Maya returned home. She popped a painkiller—her body still ached from Arman's cruelty. She forced herself to eat a little, then collapsed into bed, stifling a cry as pain rippled through her. Later, she arrived at the club. The owner called her over immediately. "Maya! Just in time. I sent you an address—check your phone. You've got a new client tonight. She checked. Her eyes widened. "Shahriar Mansion? The owner grinned. "Yep. What Arman told himself was simple: "She's a liar. A player. But I won't let her go that easy—not until I break her mask." So he made the call. Booked her—for a month. Looks like luck's finally on your side, Maya. Maya froze. A whole month. with Arman? She whispered, "Sir. a whole month? Isn't that.too much? He scoffed. "Too much? Girls line up for offers like this! You should be thankful. I've already taken the advance. You're going. Maya nodded silently. She had no choice. The money was too important. I don't know what more fate has in store for me, she thought bitterly. To be continued
By Story writesabout a year ago in Chapters
A Freshen Up
***Character name change. Selena is now Mikaela, and is of both English and Swedish decent.*** I decided that maybe Marianne was right, a fresh look might help to switch things up. Boost my confidence and, at the very least, stop anyone or anything from mistaking me for a camel. I booked a haircut for Friday lunchtime, and I’m about to leave the office. Checking myself in the bathroom mirror, I run my hand through my hair. It does look kind of long and scruffy. Usually, I wait for around seven to eight weeks between haircuts to save money. Perhaps that’s having more of a negative impact that’s worth more than the £30 I’m saving annually. It’s not just long and scruffy, though, admittedly, my ‘look’ has become a bit bland. It has no real shape to it. I’ve been googling hairstyles for men and searching for the right words to describe them, because I never know what to say when I’m in the chair. I usually just tell the barber, “Short back and sides and shorter on top,” meaning, just cut it. I may as well just shrug. I searched the barbershop’s website for the most stylish and sought-after barber, Bruno, and booked an appointment with him. Hopefully, he can help me out.
By Simon Georgeabout a year ago in Chapters
The Great Cheese Catastrophe
Maya Chen stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, wondering if mascara could somehow compensate for a complete lack of dating skills. Her dark hair hung in what she hoped looked like "effortlessly tousled waves" rather than "I stuck my finger in an electrical socket," and she'd changed outfits four times before settling on jeans and a burgundy sweater that her sister claimed brought out her eyes. Maya wasn't entirely convinced her eyes needed bringing out—they seemed to work fine where they were—but she trusted her sister's fashion judgment more than her own.
By Subhasish Adhikaryabout a year ago in Chapters
PhantomRhymes
The bass thumped like a second heartbeat as Aaliyah stepped out of the car, the club’s neon lights washing over her metallic shawl like moonlight on chrome. Tresa adjusted her signature glasses. Livia checked their passes. Meka grinned and pulled them all forward but Aaliyah’s mind was already ahead, her heart thumping in time with the distant music.
By BeeSparrow's FictionAndFlameInkabout a year ago in Chapters
The Echoes of Venice. AI-Generated.
The city of Venice was a beautiful, watery labyrinth, a place of silent canals and echoing alleyways, but for Sofia, it felt like a gilded cage. She had come here after her mother’s sudden death, a tragic accident in the city they had once called home. The inheritance had brought her to this ancient apartment overlooking the Grand Canal, a place where the light danced on the water and the sounds of life—gondoliers' songs, the chatter of tourists—seemed to mock the stillness in her heart. She spent her days cloistered in the small rooms, the velvet curtains drawn, the city a distant, beautiful dream she couldn't reach.
By rawan nabilabout a year ago in Chapters
