Love
The Letters We Never Sent
In a quiet town nestled between rolling hills and slow rivers, lived a woman named Aisha. She was a schoolteacher in her early thirties, with a love for poetry, quiet cafés, and the kind of stories that left you wondering long after they ended. Her days were peaceful, her nights filled with books and handwritten journal entries she never shared with anyone. She believed in love—the kind that waited, the kind that didn’t need to be rushed.
By Muhammad Abbas khanabout a year ago in Fiction
The Wandering Mind of Willow
In a quiet meadow surrounded by silver birch trees and soft rolling hills, there lived a rabbit named Willow. He was not like the other rabbits who spent their days hopping around collecting food or playing in the sun. Willow was different. He had a habit—some called it strange, others charming—of getting lost in his thoughts.
By Fazal Malikabout a year ago in Fiction
Wings of Joy
In a meadow kissed by golden sunlight, nestled between whispering trees and a winding stream, lived a butterfly named Zara. She wasn't just any butterfly — her wings shimmered with the colors of sunrise and sunset, with flecks of silver and blue that sparkled when she flew. But it wasn’t just her beauty that made her special. Zara was known across the valley for something even more wonderful — she loved playing with flowers, all the time, every day.
By Fazal Malikabout a year ago in Fiction
Wings of Kindness
Once upon a time, in a lush green forest nestled between tall mountains and flowing rivers, there lived a tiny ant named Aroo. Aroo was small even by ant standards, but his heart was full of curiosity and kindness. He spent his days collecting food, exploring tree roots, and greeting all the creatures he met along the way.
By Fazal Malikabout a year ago in Fiction
The Royal Legacy of King Barkley
Once upon a time, in a faraway realm hidden beyond icy mountains and ancient forests, there reigned a noble king unlike any the world had seen. His name was King Barkley, a Golden Retriever of majestic stature and unmatched wisdom. With his gleaming golden coat, kind eyes, and a crown that shimmered in the sunlight, King Barkley ruled the Canine Kingdom of Arvendale, a land where dogs of all breeds lived in peace, honor, and unity.
By Fazal Malikabout a year ago in Fiction
Whispers Between the Raindrops
The rain began softly that evening—barely more than a whisper against the windowpane. It wasn’t the dramatic kind of storm that crashes down with thunder and fury. No, this was a quiet, melancholy drizzle, as if the sky itself was trying to say something without raising its voice.
By Hanif Ullah about a year ago in Fiction
Love in a Library Aisle
The city of Prague had always been a haven for dreamers and thinkers. Its narrow cobbled streets and ancient buildings whispered stories from centuries past. But for Emma, a 29-year-old translator, the city’s charm often felt distant and muted. She found solace only in the old city library — a grand building with high ceilings and walls lined from floor to ceiling with books that smelled of history and secrets.
By Aman Ullahabout a year ago in Fiction
The Last Train to Love
A Cold Platform It was 8:30 pm on a grey November night in London. The crowd at St. Pancras Station moved like waves — purposeful, busy, and unaware of the quiet hearts that passed among them. Anna Morgan stood on Platform 6, her breath visible in the cold, clutching a cup of lukewarm coffee and a worn leather satchel. Her train — the 8:47 pm Eurostar to Paris — was the last one that night.
By Aman Ullahabout a year ago in Fiction
Where the Silence Speaks
The morning mist clung to the edges of the abandoned pier as Mara pressed her palm against the cold wooden railing. The salt-tinged air floated into her lungs, and for a moment, she let the ache relax around her shoulders. A year ago, she wouldn’t have imagined that this place once their secret haven would still haunt her so completely.
By Rameez Khanabout a year ago in Fiction
“Loving in Silence”
Loving in Silence There’s a certain kind of love that lives quietly—no grand gestures, no declarations, just a steady presence. The kind of love that waits, not for recognition, but simply for a chance to exist. That’s the love Mia knew best. She met Evan on a rainy Tuesday, the kind of day that soaked through your clothes and left a chill in your bones. He offered her his umbrella at the bus stop. It was a small thing, just a polite gesture, but when their eyes met, something shifted. Not dramatically. Just enough to feel it. From then on, they began sharing rides, coffee, and eventually pieces of their lives. Evan spoke of dreams and disappointments, the way people do when they’re comfortable. Mia listened. She always listened—closely, completely. And slowly, she began to fall. But not the kind of falling that demanded attention. Mia’s love was a quiet one. She never said the words. Instead, she showed up. Every time. She remembered the small things—his favorite tea, the way he tapped his fingers when he was nervous, the sound of his laughter when he let his guard down. She memorized him. Evan, on the other hand, lived in motion. He dated casually, sometimes seriously, often not. He told Mia about them all—about the ones who made him laugh, the ones who left too soon, the ones he thought he could love. Mia smiled through it, offered comfort when needed, and never asked for anything in return. Because loving him, even from a distance, felt like enough. Or at least, that’s what she told herself. Still, there were moments—small flickers—when she thought he might see her the same way. The way his gaze lingered just a second too long. The warmth in his voice when he said her name. The nights they sat in silence and somehow said everything. But the next day, he'd talk about someone else. Someone new. And the flicker would die before it became a flame. Mia never cried in front of him. She’d wait until the door closed, until the silence returned, and then she’d let it out in quiet sobs, pressing her face into a pillow, muffling the sound. Then she’d get up, fix her face, and keep going. Because Evan needed her. And that was enough. Or it had to be. One night, as they sat on her tiny balcony wrapped in blankets, Evan spoke of leaving. A new job in another city. A fresh start. “You should go,” Mia said softly, holding her tea with both hands to keep them from shaking. “You think so?” “Yeah. It sounds like something you need.” He looked at her for a long time. Really looked. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Mia smiled. “You’ll be okay. You always are.” He left a few weeks later. There was no dramatic goodbye. Just a long hug, the kind that feels like an ending. Mia didn’t cry—not then. She waved, closed the door, and sat on the couch in the quiet. The silence felt heavier than usual. The days after felt strange, like walking through fog. But she kept moving—going to work, answering messages, laughing when it was expected. People asked if she missed him. She nodded. Said she was fine. Because that’s what she did. And in the quiet moments, she let herself remember—his voice, his smile, the way he never quite saw her the way she saw him. But she didn’t regret it. Not one moment of it. Because some love stories aren’t meant to be told out loud. Some are whispered in the heart, held tightly, carried forward. Mia loved in silence. And though it broke her sometimes, it also shaped her. Made her softer, stronger. A kind of strength no one saw, but she knew was there. Maybe one day, someone would love her out loud. But until then, she was okay. She always found a way to be.
By Israr khanabout a year ago in Fiction
