Love

The Star Collector
1. The Inheritance of Light I found the first star in a peanut butter jar behind Grandma’s flour canister. It pulsed cobalt blue, warm as a heartbeat against my palm.
By Habibullahabout a year ago in Fiction
Letters the Ocean Never Returned
The Story The first letter arrived with the tide. Clara was walking the beach at dawn, shawl wrapped tight against the chill wind, when she spotted it—an envelope half-buried in the sand. The paper was softened and frayed, the ink smudged by saltwater, but her heart recognized the handwriting before she even touched it.
By waseem khanabout a year ago in Fiction
When the Call Came at Midnight: Chapter Two
The storm pressed harder, waves breaking against the wooden pillars beneath us. The air smelled of salt and rain, heavy with something I couldn’t quite place — like a secret waiting to be spoken.
By Saba Writesabout a year ago in Fiction
🌸 The Silent Melody of Love
The Beginning Rafi was always a quiet, different kind of boy. He was a twelfth-grade student at a renowned city college. While his classmates were busy chatting, joking, and laughing, Rafi drowned himself in books. His eyes carried a dreamy spark, his lips held a shy smile, and deep inside, he hid an unknown emptiness. But little did he know—one day, his life would change completely. His silence and unspoken feelings would finally find meaning. --- The First Encounter One afternoon, in the college library, he met Nishi. She was a newly admitted student, her eyes glowing with confidence, her lips adorned with a sweet smile. Sitting at a table, she was reading an English literature book. Suddenly, her pen slipped and fell to the floor. Rafi, who was sitting nearby, quickly picked it up and handed it to her. “Thank you,” Nishi smiled warmly. Rafi only nodded. Words didn’t come out. That tiny moment stirred something inside him. He realized—there was something different about this girl. --- The Beginning of Friendship Day by day, they grew closer. Group studies, projects, even coffee at the canteen—they were often seen together. Nishi was lively, cheerful, and social. Her vibrant personality strangely matched Rafi’s calm and reserved nature. “Why are you always so quiet?” Nishi asked one day. With a gentle smile, Rafi replied, “Maybe I like listening more than talking.” “Then listen carefully,” Nishi laughed, “because I have a lot to say.” From that day, Nishi shared everything—her daily stories, her dreams, her little joys. And Rafi? He just listened. Listened deeply, while his feelings for her grew stronger. --- Silent Love Rafi knew he was falling in love with Nishi. But he didn’t have the courage to say it. What if she saw him only as a friend? What if confessing ruined everything? So he loved her silently. He made notes for her, borrowed books from the library, helped her outside class—yet never said the words, “I love you.” One night, standing on the rooftop, staring at the sky, he whispered to himself, “Nishi… you don’t know how much I need you.” --- The Dilemma One day, a rumor spread in college—Nishi was close to a boy from another department. Rafi’s heart sank. Was his silent love slipping away? That evening, Nishi told him, “Listen, whatever people are saying, it’s not true. Do you know why I value you so much? Because you never judge me. You always try to understand me.” Rafi’s eyes grew moist. He couldn’t say a word. In his heart, he cried—“If only you knew how important you are to me.” --- The Confession The college fest arrived. Lights, music, laughter filled the air. That night, Nishi wore a beautiful blue saree. Rafi couldn’t stop staring at her—yet looked away every time. After the fest, Nishi said, “Come, let’s go to the rooftop. It’ll be quieter there.” They sat under the stars. Smiling softly, Nishi said, “You know, Rafi, I always thought you were so distant. But slowly, I realized—you’re actually the closest person to me.” Rafi’s heart raced. Gathering courage, he finally said, “Nishi… I’ve wanted to tell you something for so long. I don’t know how you’ll take it, but… I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time. I kept it hidden, because I was afraid of losing you.” For a moment, silence hung in the air. The breeze grew softer, the stars brighter. Then Nishi gently held his hand and whispered, “Did you think I didn’t notice? I’ve known it all along. I was just waiting to hear it from you.” Tears welled up in Rafi’s eyes. That night, beneath the starry sky, their silent love finally found its voice. --- A New Beginning From that day, their bond changed. They were no longer just friends—they became each other’s greatest strength. In class, during projects, in laughter and silence, their closeness was clear to everyone. They dreamed together. Nishi wanted to become a doctor, Rafi an engineer. Their paths were different, but they promised to hold each other’s hands no matter what. Years passed. The college days became memories, but their love only grew stronger. Even in university, they found time for each other, supporting one another’s dreams. --- The End One day, sitting at the university campus, Nishi softly said, “You know, Rafi? I always thought love needed grand words. But you taught me that silence can speak louder than anything.” Rafi smiled and replied, “And you taught me that even if love hides in fear, it never dies. One day, it always finds its voice.” They looked up at the sky together. The stars sparkled above, as if witnessing their love. In that silent moment, the rhythm of their hearts became the most beautiful melody of all. 🌸 The End 🌸
By Md Bayzid Bostamiabout a year ago in Fiction
The Last Train
Rain whispered against the station roof, a soft rhythm beneath the stillness of Platform 7. Anaya sat alone—though not quite alone—on a worn wooden bench, her fingers tracing the edge of a train ticket like it might vanish if she stopped holding on.
By meerjananabout a year ago in Fiction
Loving Oneself
Loving oneself, It is as tedious as counting stars, yet you can never refuse their alluring charm, so when you lose the count, start over.
By Neeharika Bhaskarlaabout a year ago in Fiction
The Last Sunflower
The air had a metallic taste. It was thick, like something from a forgotten era. A time before the sun had disappeared from the sky. A time when the Earth had been alive with warmth, growth, and hope. Now, only shadows remained.
By Solene Hartabout a year ago in Fiction
The Longest Night
The night had fallen heavy over the small mountain town. The wind howled through the pine trees like a warning whisper, and the power lines swayed above the narrow road. Inside a modest wooden cabin, Daniel sat at the dinner table, cradling a steaming cup of coffee while his wife, Emily, tucked their little girl into bed.
By MIGrowthabout a year ago in Fiction
Consequences
If his hands could kill me, then I would be dead very soon. Because my wrists are in his grip, clasped together behind my back and my forehead is kissing the bed. And his hands were around my neck not too long ago and I was on my back with my gaze softened towards the ceiling. So if I really thought about it, he could have killed me already. But he hadn't, and we are wet all over, wet on our chests and foreheads from the hanging, hugging, Territorian heat, and our groins are wet from one another. 'Why are you interested in echoes?' he asked. I didn't answer him. 'You murmur about echoes in your sleep'. I recall a phantasmagoria of bells somewhere in the distance but nowhere to be found. The last chime had an echo. But the inescapable heat was making me red in the face and unable to explain or think, anesthetised. I could tell he was desperate to know but not desperate enough to push. I found it odd that I was more willing to send him my drawers and skin and chest and bits, than I was willing to talk about the echoes. The heat had settled on me like a wet towel, thick, clinging, and oddly intimate. It dulled the edges of things: the clatter of dishes, the scrape of a chair, we drifted in the hot bed like moths in syrup. I moved slowly, not out of laziness but necessity, as if the air itself had weight. In an attempt to cool off, I take a dip. Dead bees floating atop the pool surface. Poor things. I push them aside with some care, clearing an exit path. Water comes with me as I drag my limbs, insensate, on to the warm pavers. I am pink in the cheeks and brown on my shoulders. Young looking and it is nice. I'm sitting outside in an early morning peace, goosebumps on my arms from the fans above. They never stop spinning. The droplets from my ponytail trace my spine, from my neck to my bottom. He appears and I ask him to leave. And he does. With every intention of never seeing him again, I said goodbye. 'Good luck with the echoes' he said. I drank a hot coffee from a speckled mug that wore the name of a community art centre on its posterior.
By Max Southabout a year ago in Fiction
She Called Me-Two Years After I Buried Her
I wasn’t supposed to hear her voice again. Not after the funeral. Not after the dirt hit the coffin and we all stood there in silence, trying to believe she was really gone.
By ETS_Storyabout a year ago in Fiction
The Call
I lay peacefully in bed. I wanted to forget the day behind me and begin anew with another day tomorrow; albeit an early day.
By Kent Brindleyabout a year ago in Fiction
Love story gone wrong . Top Story - August 2025.
It was a beautiful day, full of pleasant surprises, until he called, that is. At first, he sounded concerned, but that wasn’t the reason he dialled her number. There was always something Adam was unhappy about and there was always someone to blame. Anastasia was exhausted, mainly from the weight of her thoughts. He always expected her to lighten up in his presence, regardless of what was going on in her life. She had a CT scan earlier that week and she was really nervous about the results. She barely ate anything, anxiety was wreaking havoc with her nervous system. Anastasia needed Adam to be there for her, but he was preoccupied with his own problems, or the lack of. After few days of silence, she summed up the courage and reached out to him. Instead of affection he gave her a cold shoulder. She didn’t pay him a visit that week because she was anxious and tired. After another attempt to connect with him, she gave up and blocked his number. It was painful, knowing that he didn’t care about her as much as he said he did. The silence was deafening. There was a growing distance between them, a lot of things were left unsaid, on both sides. Adam always put himself first, not matter what was going on in her life. He said she meant the world to him, but when she needed him the most, he left her out in the cold.
By Sasha Chaplyabout a year ago in Fiction