family
Redemption. Content Warning.
Part 1 - Sideways The heat rising from the pavement played tricks on Finn's eyes as he rounded the bend. It promised to be a beautiful day, and he had his heart set on racing through the backfields with the new mare after he finished repairing the broken fences.
By KA Stefana about a year ago in Fiction
Cuck-oo. Top Story - July 2025.
I think, on reflection, that it would have been better if Isaiah had been a chauvinist. If he'd made some vulgar remarks about my breasts, swelling and leaking under my loose blouse. He could have grinned at me rakishly. Wolfishly even. He could've leered. I'd have pulled back, of course. Alarmed that a man acted this way (but not really). I'd have frowned. Sniffed. Slapped him, oh yes. Flounced. Ordered him the hell out of my house. The problem was, he had clear olive skin and a charming smile. Good hygiene. He smelled nice. There was a faint whiff of something like lavender around him, only more masculine. He was well-groomed, without ever seeming vain. Softly spoken. Polite. The problem was, he didn't make my skin crawl. Didn't set off my women's intuition. Not even a tingle. At least, not that sort. He paid his rent on time. Kept his room neat. Not just his room, either. He helped out. He projected an aura of confidence and capability, but it was more than that. He got shit done. He saw what needed doing, and he did it. I never nagged him. I never even asked. He never put me in the undesirable position of asking. He just... did what needed doing. (Be still my heart!) More: he did it well enough we didn't need to pay another man to do it properly afterwards. In short, here is a man, you find yourself thinking, who has his shit together. Isaiah is pleasant. He compliments you, but never, at least at first, in a way he couldn't repeat in front of your husband. He makes you feel seen. Valued. This is an awful thing to do to a mother, who feels invisible, and consumed by her own self. Especially awful to do to one who has been at the grindstone of motherhood for several years already, and a new baby has recently done a number on a body which is already a little worn from Time and Gravity and three other children testing it like a hotel and then busting out of it. This breed of woman is peculiarly vulnerable to such tactics, and a man like Isaiah smiles, knowing it. Flirts a little harder. Watches her reaction. Pushes a little, just a little. To find where the boundary is. Pushes a little more. There are moments when his gaze lingers a little too long, just a fraction of a heartbeat. Or perhaps he stands a little close, and he lets you see his breath catch. He pulls away abruptly, but with a deferential dip of his head, and then he hurries away, as if he can hardly contain himself, but knows he must. Here is a man, you find yourself thinking, who is steeped in passion, and yet always does the right thing. My girls think he is wonderful, of course. Liza, my eldest, flirts openly and clumsily with him. Tosses her long hair, smirks at him sidewise. Or else pins it up on her head, to expose the back of her neck and make her look taller. He never reciprocates, yet he never makes her feel stupid or rejected either. I could have loved him for that. For the way he protected her tart of a heart. One evening, he was clearing away the dishes after dinner. Not the way Ivor does, either: dumping them on the nearest kitchen surface, or in the sink (still covered in leftovers and food wrappings). I apologised for the way Liza had tried to sit in his lap, and for the cut of her blouse, which, to my eyes, was practically to her navel. I can't remember his response, precisely. It was along the lines of, She's going to practise on someone. Isn't it better she does it under your nose? He gave the impression of a man impervious. She's a child, he said, with not quite scorn. I could no more find her attractive than little Bobby, there, (here he nodded at the youngest, who was gurgling on his mat and wrestling with his own feet). I was left feeling that, if Loretta should throw herself naked at Isaiah while I wasn't home, he would disentangle himself with tact. Really, Isaiah was a man who made you feel safe, and there is perhaps no more dangerous creature in all the seven continents. + Loretta snuggles up to him if ever Isaiah sits with us in the evenings. Thumb in her mouth, or else chattering away about ponies. He never chides her that she is too old for thumb-sucking, and he never shoots judgemental looks at me, either, for not curbing the habit successfully. He accepts her the way an easy-going person might an affectionate dog. Her hair is shorter than Liza's. We keep it in a sleek black bob, because she hates having it brushed. But one morning, when we were all in a terrible hurry, Isaiah offered to do it for her and she sat as neat and quiet as you like. He was gentle, which surprised her, and also efficient, which made her pout. Ellison's mouth is always stretched in a grin when Isaiah is around. My son thinks our lodger is quite, quite wonderful. He wants his opinion on everything. He calls him sir. The raucous energy that powers him everywhere else is tamed. He wants Isaiah to think him older than he is, as much as Liza does, though for different reasons. Isaiah was a little too good looking for Ivor to warm to straight away, but so skilled was Isaiah in his craft that even Ivor got to like him eventually. Isaiah projected nothing but respectful harmlessness. He was so unassuming when he replaced bulbs, and tightened hinges, and repainted what needed repainting, that Ivor came to take these things for granted. As if this were part of the deal: room and board in return for maintenance work and handymanning. + He did it so smoothly that not one of us saw it coming. Nor did our neighbours. Before I knew which way was up, I had a hopeless crush on him, and he played on it. Wound it tighter every day, with every glance, and with every glance avoided. Ellison preferred Isaiah's opinion to his own father's. I couldn't bear to have Ivor touch me after a long day of being pawed at by Bobby. In fairness, Ivor didn't always feel so inclined after a long day in the clinic. Still, I fantasised about firm, tanned hands, and intense darks eyes. Liza didn't let up for a single day, and Loretta started growing her hair out. Even Bobby joined the little fan club. + His initials appeared next to ours on the mailbox. I.N. Nobody else round here has one, but Ivor likes it, because it reminds him of home. He didn't notice the extra letters initially, and then it was like they'd always been there. + Isaiah was determined to edge out his rival, I see that now. By any means necessary. First, Ivor injured his knee out running. Ivor never went running, but maybe he was shamed into it by the lean young man smiling at his wife. Barely had he recovered from that, he sprained his arm when he fell from the ladder while fixing the guttering. Neither injury was life-threatening, though, so Isaiah upped his game. At least, that's what I think now. I never thought such a thing back then. Like I said, we never saw it coming.
By L.C. Schäferabout a year ago in Fiction
I Was Reborn in Flames but Never Left the Fire
Let Me Tell You a Story You’ll Never Forget I was born for the third time on a night of red skies and black screams. In my village, we do not fear death. We expect it. Welcome it, even. Because here, death is never the end. We are reborn through fire every hundred years. It's our curse. Or blessing. It depends on who you ask.
By Isabella Woodabout a year ago in Fiction
Echoes of a Forgotten Code: When AI Redeems Human Memory
Chapter 1: The Leak Cameron Malik thought this would be just another gig: investigate the rumored leak from AetherTech’s closed AI initiative, Project Mnemosyne. The internal memo hinted an internal beta had “begun recalling user-specific data it was never trained on.” The source was anonymous, but the claim was earth‑shaking: an AI with emergent memory. On a rainy Islamabad afternoon, the forwarded PDF sat waiting. Cameron’s pulse raced. This would be career territory—or a career‑ending rumor. They arranged a clandestine meeting for proof.
By Muhammad Abbas khanabout a year ago in Fiction
Her Voice Note at 2AM
Story: It was exactly 2:07 AM when Hadi’s phone buzzed on the nightstand beside his bed. He blinked awake, squinting at the bright screen. Maybe another food discount message or a pointless app notification. But what popped up made his breath catch:
By Aman Ullahabout a year ago in Fiction
Whispers of the Tide: A Story Told in Shells
At first glance, the image is simple—serene, even. A ceramic bowl, resting gently on the damp sand, cradles an exquisite collection of seashells. They sit nestled together like quiet thoughts, each one shaped by time and tide. Beyond this peaceful arrangement, the shoreline stretches toward a glowing horizon, golden with the touch of evening light. A lighthouse stands distant and steady, a silent witness to the sea’s ever-shifting moods.
By Fazal Malikabout a year ago in Fiction
10 Dates Before Goodbye
Start writing...10 Dates Before Goodbye Zindagi ke aakhri chh mahine, pyaar ke sabse khoobsurat 10 din. --- Date 1: The Diagnosis Hospital ke khidki ke peechay Zoya khadi thi, uske haath mein ek file thi jo uski zindagi ki haqeeqat lekar aayi thi. Stage 4 blood cancer. Doctor ne sirf chh mahine zindagi di thi. Aankhon mein aansuon ke saath Zoya ne apne dil ki baat Ali se chhupate hue poocha, “Kya hum waqt ko rok nahi sakte? Ya phir ise thoda sa thehra nahi sakte?” Ali ne uski taraf dekha, jiska chehra dard se bhara tha, lekin uske labon par ek chhoti si muskurahat thi. Usne apni jeb se ek chhoti si diary nikali, pehla safha khola, aur likha: > “Chalo, hum 10 dates karte hain. Tumhari muskurahat roz dekhni hai, jab tak ho.” Zoya ne uski baat par thoda hansa, phir kaha, “Main marne wali hoon, aur tum dating ka plan bana rahe ho?” Ali ne aankhon mein chamak ke saath jawab diya, “Waqt kam hai, is liye pyaar jaldi karna hoga. Har pal ko jeene ka iraada hai.” --- Date 2: School Wali Bench Agla din tha. Ali ne Zoya ko usi purani bench par le gaya jahan bachpan mein woh school se bhaag kar chup jati thi. Wahan do sandwiches rakhe thay. Zoya ne hairani se poocha, “Yeh kya hai?” Ali ne kaha, “Bachpan ki bhookh kabhi nahi marti. Aur yeh sandwiches tumhari bachpan ki yaadon ke liye hain.” Zoya ki aankhon mein aansu aa gaye, “Aur bachpan ka pyaar? Kya woh bhi zinda hai?” Ali ne has kar kaha, “Woh to tumhare samne zinda hai. Aur main us pyaar ko zinda rakhne aaya hoon.” --- Date 3: Library Mein Khamoshi Wo din Ali ne Zoya ko library le gaya. Wahan ek purani kitaab chhupi thi, jisme usne chhote chhote pyar bhare khat likhe thay. Har safhe par ek yaad, har yaad mein Zoya ka naam tha. Zoya ne poocha, “Yeh sab kab likha?” Ali ne kaha, “Jab tum mujhse door thi, main har din tumhari wapsi ka intezaar karta tha. Har lafz mein mera pyaar chhupa tha.” Zoya ne uske haath thaame aur aankhon mein aansu bhar aaye. --- Date 4: No Filter Photography Ali ne Zoya ki 100 tasveerain khinchein — bina makeup, bina pose, sirf asli hassi aur jazbat ke saath. Zoya ne poocha, “Yeh sab kyun?” Ali ne jawab diya, “Main tumhein waise hi yaad rakhna chahta hoon, jaisi tum ho — hassi wali, thodi roothi hui, kabhi gusse wali, magar hamesha zinda.” --- Date 5: Khamosh Walk Dono ek lambe park ke raaste par chal rahe thay, bina baat kiye. Sirf unke saanson ki awaaz sunai de rahi thi. Zoya ne pehli baar Ali ka haath thaama, “Main tayyar hoon. Har pal jeene ke liye.” Ali ne kaha, “Yeh waqt humara hai, isse hum jeetenge.” --- Date 6: I Love You... In Writing Ali ne Zoya ke liye aik diary banayi thi — 30 pages, har zaban mein “I love you” likha tha. Zoya ne hans ke kaha, “Agar tum chalay gaye to?” Ali ne kaha, “Pyaar kabhi nahi marta, log marte hain, lekin jazbaat kabhi nahi.” --- Date 7: Chupke Se Raqs Ek purane café mein dono ne chupke se Bluetooth speaker lagaya aur bina shor sharabe ke raqs kiya. Zoya ne poocha, “Music kahan hai?” Ali bola, “Jahan tum ho, wahan har sans ek sur hai.” --- Date 8: Hospital Ki Chhat Ali ne Zoya ko hospital ki chhat par le gaya. Andhera tha, lekin sitare chamak rahe thay. Ali ne kaha, “Agar main chala gaya to, har barish mein mujhe dhundhna, har sitaray mein mera chehra dekhna.” Zoya ne uska haath mazbooti se pakda. --- Date 9: Shadi Ka Jhoot Zoya ne hospital staff ke saath mil kar chhoti si shaadi arrange ki — bina papers ke, magar asli pyaar ke saath. Ali ne kaha, “Yeh meri zindagi ki asli deal hai.” Zoya ne kaha, “Aur meri bhi.” --- Date 10: Goodbye Without Tears Aakhri date thi. Ali ne diary ka aakhri page Zoya ke haath mein diya, > “Mujhe yaad mat rakhna, mujhe jeeti rakhna.” Zoya ne usse gale lagaya, aansu rok kar. Ali ne aankhein band ki aur muskuraya. --- Epilogue: Aaj bhi Zoya har saal 10 naye logon ke saath 10 dates karti hai, unhe jeene ki umeed dene ke liye. > Kyun ke Ali ne usse sikhaya tha: “Pyaar zindagi mein nahi hota, pyaar zindagi bana deta hai.”
By Aman Ullahabout a year ago in Fiction
Love Silenced. AI-Generated.
Was Their Decision Right or Wrong From a human and emotional perspective, Ilyas and Zainab only followed what their hearts told them—they loved each other and dreamed of a life where they could be free, happy, and respected. In many parts of the world, falling in love is not a crime. In fact, it's seen as something beautiful and natural. So from a moral and personal freedom standpoint, their decision was not wrong.
By Bilal Mohammadiabout a year ago in Fiction
