literature
Families and literature go hand in hand; fictional families to entertain, reflect and inspire.
The Hands That Never Rested
In a quiet town near the hills, lived a woman named Asha. She was a mother of three—two boys and a girl. Her home was small, her clothes were simple, and her hands were always busy. But her heart? It was huge—filled with endless love for her children.
By Nihal Khanabout a year ago in Families
The Last Goodbye
Mia had never been anything more than a small town girl in a town that was not entirely cognizant of her presence. She'd always lived a series of visions of escaping from her little teeny hometown to the city, where everything seemed bigger and shinier and more important. All she wanted to do was leave. But circumstances had a knack for keeping her grounded in what was familiar.
By Bari Mir Rahamatulabout a year ago in Families
Those Little Hands
"How will I tell you that he's not coming back?" The question was just on my head. I could not bear to voice it. But I let you watch him go. I was cruel. I should not have. But I did not want to lie, even if I cannot speak the truth. I wanted to show you how truth hurts. I was angry at him. Maybe, I wanted you to feel the same way.
By Raquel Panganibanabout a year ago in Families
Grounds on Which a Female Can Apply For Dissolution of Marriage in Muslim Law
Grounds on Which a Female Can Apply for Divorce in Muslim Law Divorce itself is the most hated but permitted thing to Allah almighty. Allah has created man and women in pairs. The simple way to end the bond is to get divorce. However, females are often confused on which grounds they can easily get divorce and get rid of any abusive, and toxic relationship. This Article may help you in resolving some of your questions related to Khula or Divorce as well.
By RabiyaR Buttabout a year ago in Families
The Invisible Bond
Elena absentmindedly stirred her espresso by the cafe window. Outside, the rain that had been falling relentlessly for three days blurred the streets of Paris, transforming the city into a watercolor painting. Droplets clung to the windowpane, fracturing the city lights into prismatic shards. She glanced at her watch—10:30 AM. Late again. The antique bracelet on her wrist tingled faintly, the one she never removed. Across the room, Daniel adjusted his camera lens, trying to capture how the raindrops refracted light. He'd felt restless all morning, as if being summoned. At first he didn't notice her—not until she sighed and tucked a chestnut-brown strand behind her ear. The gesture struck him as eerily familiar. Their eyes met. A current passed between them, electric and undeniable. Elena's spoon clattered against her saucer. Daniel lowered his camera, frowning. Those sea-green eyes—had he seen them before? In Venice's canals perhaps? "Have we..." Daniel began, but the words dissolved on his tongue. Elena smiled faintly. "I was thinking the exact same thing." --- **Three Weeks Earlier** Elena Petrova, a literature professor from Moscow's prestigious Pushkin Institute, had come to Paris for a European literary conference. The city had been her childhood dream—this capital of art and whispered romance. Yet from the moment she entered her rented Montmartre studio, everything felt unsettlingly familiar: the ornate wall mirror, the writing desk by the window. Meanwhile, Daniel Moreau, an acclaimed freelance photographer from Marseille, occupied the third-floor apartment. He was working on "Paris Unseen," capturing the city's hidden moments—love notes tucked in alleyways, bridges sagging with padlocks of promises. Their first encounter happened dramatically. An elevator outage forced Elena to take the stairs, where her suitcase handle snapped. Daniel, descending, caught both her and the tumbling luggage. "Pardon," he murmured, steadying her elbow. Elena looked up into hazel eyes that reminded her of autumn sunlight filtering through leaves. "It's fine," she replied in French, her Russian accent softening the words. For a suspended moment, neither moved. Then the spell broke, and Daniel continued downstairs—though that night, both dreamed in fragments. --- **The Dreamscapes** Elena's dreams transported her to a sun-drenched courtyard where someone called her "Mila." Though the face remained blurred, the voice resonated in her bones, lingering like a half-remembered song. Daniel dreamed of a woman tracing book spines in a phantom library, her touch memorizing each groove. Sometimes they walked hand-in-hand through cities he'd never visited, yet knew intimately. A week later, sharing the elevator, Daniel ventured: "Have you been to Prague?" Elena startled. "I dream about it. There's a church—" "—Our Lady Before Tyn," he finished. They began meeting daily at Cafe Lumiere, piecing together their dreams like a puzzle. Each revelation fit uncannily—a winter market in St. Petersburg, an argument under Kyoto's cherry blossoms. --- **The Revelation** Now, as rain pattered against cafe windows, Elena studied Daniel's hands—the callouses from camera work, the silver ring on his pinky. "Do you believe some connections transcend time?" Daniel sipped his coffee. "Through my lens, I freeze moments. But this..." He shook his head. "This defies logic." Elena twisted her bracelet. "I bought this in Berlin. The shopkeeper claimed it 'holds soul memories.'" Daniel's breath hitched. He produced a worn silver coin from his pocket. "I carry this always. Don't remember where it came from." When Elena turned it over, she gasped—etched in ancient Greek was the name "Mila." --- **The Pledge** At dusk, they walked along the rain-slicked Seine. The storm had passed, leaving the air crisp with petrichor. "What if we forget again?" Elena whispered. Daniel laced his fingers through hers. "Then I'll look for this." He touched her bracelet. "And you'll look for this." He flipped the coin. "Our clues," Elena realized. "Yes," Daniel said. "And this time—" He produced a leather-bound journal. "We write everything down." For the first time in this lifetime, they didn't just hold hands—they began documenting every dream, every deja vu, creating a map for their souls to follow, should they ever lose their way again.
By Niranjon Chandra Royabout a year ago in Families
Love Has No Victory or Defeat, Only Unfinished Stories
The cafe was quiet, save for the soft hum of the espresso machine and the occasional clink of a spoon against porcelain. Riya sat by the window, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup, lost in thought. The rain outside blurred the city lights into streaks of gold and red, a perfect reflection of the chaos inside her heart. It had been three years since she last saw Arjun. They had met in this very cafe, two strangers with books as their shields, pretending not to notice each other. But fate had other plans—a spilled coffee, an awkward apology, and suddenly, they were laughing like old friends. Riya remembered how his eyes had crinkled at the corners when he smiled, how he always stirred his tea three times before taking the first sip, how he would absentmindedly tap his fingers against the table when lost in thought. Little things that had once been insignificant now felt like fragments of a life she could never reclaim. Their love story wasn’t grand or dramatic. It was built on shared silences, stolen glances, and whispered promises. They spent rainy afternoons curled up on her tiny balcony, talking about everything—their dreams, their fears, the books they loved, the places they wanted to see. Arjun wanted to travel the world, to chase the horizon, while Riya was content in the comfort of familiarity, in the city she had always called home. But like all stories, theirs had an ending—or rather, it didn’t. One evening, over takeout and old records, Arjun had hesitated before speaking. "I got the scholarship," he said quietly. Riya had known this was coming. She had seen the acceptance letter on his desk weeks ago but had pretended not to notice. Now, the words hung between them, heavy and unavoidable. "That’s amazing," she had replied, forcing a smile. "You’ve worked so hard for this." He reached for her hand, his grip tight. "Come with me." But she couldn’t. Her mother was ill, her job was stable, and the thought of leaving everything behind terrified her. They had argued, then apologized, then fallen into a resigned silence. In the end, there were no dramatic goodbyes, no tearful accusations. Just a quiet understanding that their paths were diverging. He had dreams that took him across the ocean, and she had roots too deep to pull out. They hugged at the airport, both pretending it wasn’t tearing them apart. Now, he was back. The bell above the door chimed, and Riya’s breath caught. There he was—older, a little weary, but still Arjun. His hair was shorter, his shoulders broader, but the way he carried himself was achingly familiar. Their eyes met, and for a moment, time stood still. "Hi," he said, sliding into the seat across from her. "Hi," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. The air between them was thick with unspoken words. They talked about everything and nothing—work, the rain, the cafe’s new menu. He told her about his travels, the cities he had lived in, the people he had met. She spoke about her mother’s recovery, her promotion, the novel she had finally finished writing. But the real conversation lingered beneath the surface, in the pauses between sentences. "Did you ever think about us?" Riya finally asked, her heart pounding. Arjun looked down, his fingers tightening around his cup. "Every day." Silence stretched between them, filled with the weight of what could have been. "Did you ever regret it?" she pressed. He met her gaze then, his eyes soft. "No. Because loving you was never a mistake. But I do wonder… what if things had been different?" Riya smiled, bittersweet. "Maybe some stories aren’t meant to have endings. Maybe their purpose is just to leave a mark." Love doesn’t always have a winner or a loser. Sometimes, it’s just a story that remains unfinished—a melody that lingers long after the music stops. Outside, the rain slowed to a drizzle. And in that quiet cafe, two souls sat together, bound by a love that had neither victory nor defeat—only the beauty of what they had shared.
By Niranjon Chandra Royabout a year ago in Families
Selfless Love or Hidden Selfishness?
Characters: Ethan Carter – A compassionate social worker Sophia Reynolds – An ambitious lawyer Daniel Collins – Ethan’s childhood friend and a skeptic of love --- Ethan Carter had always believed in love—the kind that asked for nothing in return. To him, love was a force that existed beyond personal gain, beyond conditions. He worked tirelessly as a social worker, dedicating his life to helping the less fortunate. His closest friend, Daniel Collins, however, had a different perspective. "Love is just a transaction, Ethan," Daniel often argued. "People give because they expect something back, even if it’s just appreciation or companionship. No one loves without a reason." Ethan would smile and shake his head. "Not everything is about gain, Daniel. Love exists beyond that." But Daniel wasn’t convinced. He believed that even Ethan’s charity work was driven by a need—to feel good about himself, to be seen as noble, or to find a sense of purpose in life. One evening, Ethan met Sophia Reynolds, a sharp and determined lawyer, at a charity fundraiser. She was beautiful, intelligent, and carried an air of confidence that intrigued him. Unlike Ethan, Sophia believed in practicality over emotions. To her, relationships were partnerships built on mutual benefit. However, she was drawn to Ethan’s sincerity, the way he gave without expecting anything in return. Over the next few months, their bond deepened. Sophia admired Ethan’s kindness, and he, in turn, loved her strength and ambition. Yet, despite their love, Sophia couldn’t shake the feeling that Ethan’s selflessness had an unspoken need—to be needed. One evening, as they walked along the riverbank, she asked, "Ethan, why do you love me?" He smiled. "Because I just do, Sophia. There’s no reason, no expectation. I love you for who you are." She frowned slightly. "But isn't love always rooted in something? We love because someone makes us happy, because they support us, because they fulfill something in us." Ethan thought for a moment. "Maybe. But I’d still love you even if you gave me nothing in return." Sophia wasn’t sure how to respond. She wondered—was it truly possible to love without expecting anything? Did love exist in pure selflessness, or was it always tied to some unspoken desire? Time passed, and though they were happy, Ethan received an offer for a prestigious international charity program. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to expand his work globally, but it meant leaving Sophia behind. He was torn. Daniel, hearing about the dilemma, smirked. "See, Ethan? If your love were truly selfless, you’d leave without hesitation. But you hesitate because you don’t want to lose what she gives you." Ethan was silent. Was Daniel right? Did he, too, have unspoken desires hidden beneath his love? Sophia made the decision for him. "Ethan, you have to go. This is your dream, your purpose. I love you, but I won’t hold you back." Ethan left, and they promised to keep in touch. However, as months passed, their connection faded. Distance created silence, and silence turned into acceptance. Eventually, Sophia moved on, and Ethan continued his work. Years later, they met again at another charity event. Sophia was married, and Ethan was still devoted to his cause. As they talked, she asked, "Do you still believe love is selfless?" Ethan smiled, a little older and wiser. "I believe love is many things. Maybe we all want something, even if it's just to love and be loved. But that doesn’t make love any less real." Sophia nodded, understanding now what she hadn’t before. Love wasn’t about whether it was selfless or selfish—it was simply love, in all its complexities. --- Moral of the story: Love may never be entirely free of personal desires, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t genuine. Whether driven by selflessness or hidden needs, love remains one of the purest emotions a human can experience.
By Niranjon Chandra Royabout a year ago in Families
The Three Sisters and Their Garden of Harmony
In a remote village nestled between rolling hills and lush valleys, there lived three Native American girls named Kaya, Malia, and Aiyana. They were known in their village for their unbreakable bond, their laughter that echoed through the woods, and their shared love for the earth. Their parents had taught them the importance of working in harmony with nature, a lesson passed down through generations.
By Nav k Aidanabout a year ago in Families
The World 1500 Years Ago: A Glimpse into 500 CE
The World 1500 Years Ago: A Glimpse into 500 CE Introduction Around 500 CE, the world was in a period of transition. The Roman Empire had recently collapsed in the West, while the Eastern Roman (Byzantine) Empire was rising in prominence. In Asia, great dynasties shaped the future of China and India, while the Arabian Peninsula was yet to experience the rise of Islam. Africa had thriving civilizations, and the Americas saw the continued development of powerful societies. This era, often referred to as the early Middle Ages or the post-classical period, set the foundation for many modern cultures and nations.
By Kazi Mirajul Islamabout a year ago in Families
The Gift of Time
A Busy Father's Journey to Rediscovering Family Love James Carter had always been a provider. A hardworking man, he believed that success meant long hours at the office, promotions, and financial security for his family. He had a wife, Anna, and two children, Lily and Max, but lately, his connection with them felt distant. The laughter and bedtime stories had been replaced with quick goodnights, and his weekends were spent answering emails instead of playing in the backyard.
By Angie green2 years ago in Families
