Love
5 Unknown fiction About Marriage
1. The Silent Vow An unusual vow was made when Lila and Aron got married: no words, just actions. For ten years, they lived in gestures, laughter, and quiet dinners. Their neighbors speculated wildly—some called it romantic, others tragic. Yet inside their small brick home, every look, every meal cooked, every hand held in the dark spoke volumes. Lila didn't say anything to Aron until their twentieth wedding anniversary. He smiled, nodded, and whispered it back: "Always."
By Rony Sutradarabout a year ago in Fiction
"Almost"
They met in the gentle chaos of autumn - not as planned, but as some stories began without permission. Claire was returning a book to the campus library late as usual, half-finished coffee in hand and her mind full of everything, except the moment she was in. Just then he bumps into Jamie, who is walking out, earbuds in, to the world's amazement.
By robin jamesabout a year ago in Fiction
"Whispers of the Forgotten"
Lydia Montgomery has spent years burying herself in the past, unable to move on from the tragic death of her fiancé Michael, who died in a car accident three years ago. She has avoided the world of love and desire and immersed herself in her work as an art historian.
By robin jamesabout a year ago in Fiction
The Girl Who Loved in Morse Code
Elena Navarro’s world hummed. The vibrations of engines traveled up her wrists as she tightened the bolt on a Harley’s carburetor, her fingers reading the machine’s pulse like a cardiogram. Deaf since a meningitis attack at sixteen, she’d learned to rebuild things—motorcycles, her life—through touch. The garage her abuela left her in San Juan’s crumbling port district smelled of grease and salt, its walls trembling whenever cargo ships groaned into the harbor.
By Rizwan Khanabout a year ago in Fiction
When Destiny Brought Two Hearts Together
Zindagi ke kuch lamhe aise hote hain jo hamesha ke liye yaadon mein bas jaate hain. Aisi hi ek kahani hai Ayaan aur Hania ki. Dono ki mulaqat bilkul achanak hui thi, lekin jaise kismet ne pehle se likh rakha ho, unka milna tay tha. Ayaan ek sheher ka ladka tha, jo apne career ke peeche bhaag raha tha. Din raat kaam karta, sapne dekhta aur unhe pura karne ki koshish mein lagaa rehta. Hania ek chhoti si town ki ladki thi, jo apne sapno mein khoyi rehti thi, lekin dil se bahut badi thi. Uska andaaz, uski muskurahat, sab kuch kuch khaas tha. Ek din Ayaan ka kaam ke silsile mein uss town mein jaana hua. Station par jab wo train ka intezaar kar raha tha, tabhi ek ladki se takra gaya — wo ladki Hania thi. Uske haathon se kitaabein gir gayi. Ayaan ne jhuk ke kitaabein uthayi aur nazar uthi toh dono ki aankhein mil gayi. Kuch pal ke liye waqt jaise tham gaya. "Sorry," Ayaan ne kaha muskurate hue. "Koi baat nahi," Hania ne halki si muskurahat ke saath jawab diya. Bas, wahi se ek ajeeb si dosti shuru hui. Pehle kuch din bas choti choti baatein hoti rahi, phir dosti gehri hoti gayi. Hania Ayaan ko uss sheher ke chhote chhote khoobsurat raaz dikhati, aur Ayaan har naye din ke saath Hania ki muskurahat mein kho jaata. Ayaan ko kab uski aadat ho gayi, use khud nahi pata chala. Aur Hania bhi jab Ayaan ke saath hoti, to duniya ka har gham bhool jaati. Dono ke darmiyan ek khamosh si mohabbat pal rahi thi, lekin dono mein se kisi mein itni himmat nahi thi ke pehle izhaar kare. Ek shaam jab suraj dhal raha tha aur aasman surkh ho gaya tha, dono ek purani lake ke paas baithe the. Hawa mein thandi si mithaas thi. Hania ne halka sa muskurate hue kaha: "Ayaan, kabhi kabhi lagta hai kuch log bas ek dafa milte hain aur zindagi bhar ke liye kuch ban jaate hain." Ayaan ne use dekha, uski aankhon mein kuch tha — ek kahani, ek ehsaas. "Hania, tum meri zindagi ki sabse khoobsurat kahani ban gayi ho," Ayaan ne dheere se kaha. Hania ke gaal surkh ho gaye. Usne sharmate hue nazar jhuka li. Pehli dafa Ayaan ne uska haath apne haath mein le liya. "Main chahta hoon ke tum meri zindagi mein hamesha ke liye raho," Ayaan ne kaha. Hania ki aankhon mein aansu the, lekin khushi ke. Usne sirf itna kaha, "Main bhi." Us raat dono ki duniya badal gayi. Ab unki mulaqat sirf dosti tak mehdood nahi rahi. Har din nayi umeedein, naye sapne aur naye ehsaas lekar aata tha. Ayaan jab apne sheher lautne laga, to uska dil bohot udaas tha, lekin usne Hania se wada kiya tha: "Main laut ke aaoonga, sirf tumhare liye." Aur waqi Ayaan apna kaam settle karke kuch mahine baad wapas aaya — is baar apne rishta lekar. Dono ke ghar walon ne shuru mein kuch chhoti chhoti chintaayen zahir ki, lekin jab unhone Ayaan aur Hania ke bepanah mohabbat dekhi, to sab razi ho gaye. Shaadi ka din aaya. Hania ek safed joda pehne, khud pari lag rahi thi. Ayaan usse dekh kar bas ek hi baat soch raha tha: "Main duniya ke sabse khushnaseeb insaan hoon." Nikaah ke lafz jab qazi sahab ke zariye ghoonj rahe the, to dono ke chehre khushi se chamak rahe the. Jab qazi sahab ne kaha, "Qubool hai?" to dono ne muskurate hue jawab diya, "Qubool hai." Us din sirf do log nahi mile, balki do roohon ka milan hua. Mohabbat jo ek chhoti si mulaqat se shuru hui thi, ab ek hamesha ke bandhan mein badal chuki thi. Ayaan aur Hania ki kahani yahi nahi khatam hoti. Har din, har saal, unka pyaar aur gehra hota gaya. Musibat aaye, khushiyan aayein, lekin dono ne kabhi ek dusre ka haath nahi chhoda. Zindagi mein aksar sab kuch perfect nahi hota, lekin jab sahi insan saath ho, to har musibat asaan lagti hai. Ayaan aur Hania ne mil kar sab kuch jhela, aur apni mohabbat ko ek misaal bana diya. Aaj bhi jab koi unse mohabbat ke bare mein poochta hai, to Hania muskura kar kehti hai: "Humari mohabbat ek kahani nahi, ek dua hai jo Allah ne qubool kar li." Aur Ayaan hamesha kehta hai: "Jab tak saans hai, Hania meri zindagi ka hissa rahegi." Kuch mohabbatein waqayi kabhi khatam nahi hoti.
By Eisa duraneabout a year ago in Fiction
Across Cultures, Between Hearts
"Across Cultures, Between Hearts" A Love Story of Boundaries Broken and Hearts United In the heart of San Francisco, where fog rolled in like whispered secrets and streetcars rattled through time, Mr. Shah Khan lived a life of quiet purpose. Originally from Lahore, Pakistan, Shah was a literature professor at a small liberal arts college, known for his passion for Rumi, Baldwin, and his afternoon chai, which he made himself in a copper pot passed down from his grandmother. He wasn’t looking for love—not actively, anyway. He had long accepted that his life would be centered on teaching, books, and quiet evenings. But life, in all its unpredictability, had other plans. Vegernia Adams was an art curator at a local gallery known for showcasing multicultural artists. A Georgia native, she was a bold blend of Southern charm and urban elegance. Her days were filled with canvases, colors, and conversations, and her heart was a soft space for stories, especially the ones that could not be painted—only lived. Vegernia was content with her life, but somewhere deep inside, she felt as though something was missing. She hadn’t yet figured out what that was. Their paths crossed on a rainy Thursday afternoon at a community lecture on “Poetry Across Borders,” where Shah was the guest speaker. Vegernia sat in the front row, her eyes alight with curiosity. When Shah read out a verse by Faiz Ahmed Faiz—“You are that star of love, burning far above all borders”—she felt something stir within her. It was as though the words reached into the deepest part of her soul and pulled her into the moment. After the lecture, she approached him, a smile playing on her lips. “You read that like you’ve lived it,” she said, tucking a curl behind her ear. Shah paused for a moment before replying, his eyes meeting hers with a certain softness. “Poetry only works when it’s real.” That was the start. Their first conversation lasted hours, and by the time the rain had subsided, they had exchanged phone numbers and agreed to meet again. Over the next few weeks, they shared coffees, dinners, and long walks through Golden Gate Park. What started as casual talks about art, literature, and music soon shifted into deeper revelations. Shah told her about growing up in a house filled with laughter, jasmine vines, and evening prayers. He spoke of the love he had for his family, for his country, and for the stories that shaped his life. Vegernia, in turn, told him about her childhood in Georgia, about her mother's humming as she baked pies, and the sense of belonging that came with the traditions of her Southern upbringing. Despite their cultural differences, they found common ground in their shared love of storytelling. There was an ease in their conversations, as though they had always known each other. Yet, underneath it all, there was the subtle awareness that the worlds they inhabited were not always aligned. Shah had never imagined himself in a relationship outside his culture. Vegernia had never thought her future would include someone who prayed five times a day or celebrated Eid with such reverence. But love, they discovered, was about seeing each other fully, not about erasing what made them unique. One evening, they found themselves on the Golden Gate Bridge, walking slowly beneath the dusky sky. The lights of the city twinkled below, but it was the quiet between them that felt most significant. “Do you think this could work?” Vegernia asked, her voice soft, her gaze distant. Shah looked out over the bay before turning his gaze back to her. “I think love is worth finding a way.” It wasn’t easy. There were awkward conversations with family. Her friends, though well-meaning, sometimes asked ignorant questions. His relatives back home warned him about losing his traditions. Yet, they chose each other, again and again, each time realizing that their bond was far stronger than any societal boundary. Shah taught Vegernia how to cook biryani, laughing as she overused the cumin. They shared a thousand little moments of joy, from cleaning up spilled masala to picking out fresh herbs from the farmer’s market. She, in turn, introduced him to the beauty of Southern soul music, taking him to concerts where he marveled at the soulful melodies. He took her to vibrant Eid celebrations, where families gathered under tents filled with rich food and laughter. She brought him to her family’s Thanksgiving in Atlanta, where he helped her grandmother set the table and charmed everyone with his quiet warmth and gentle humor. Though their cultures sometimes clashed—Shah’s quietness in the face of her Southern assertiveness, or the challenges of fitting her artistic nature into his more traditional upbringing—they found ways to understand each other. In the spaces where they didn’t understand, they built bridges, learning to adapt and embrace each other’s world with open hearts. One spring afternoon, while visiting a book fair in Oakland, Shah handed her a small, leather-bound journal. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw the words inscribed on the first page in his neat handwriting: “No border can bind the heart that sees, No language needed when love agrees. You and I, like verse and rhyme, Belong together, across all time.” Vegernia looked up, her eyes misty. “Is this…?” He nodded, his voice soft. “Will you write the rest of our story with me?” They married the next summer in a beautiful garden ceremony. It was a fusion of their two worlds—Quranic verses were recited under a flower arch, while gospel music played in the background. Vegernia wore a white lace dress, and Shah donned a cream sherwani with a pink rose pinned to his chest. The ceremony was not just a marriage of two people but the joining of two distinct worlds, cultures, and traditions. Their first dance wasn’t choreographed. It didn’t need to be. It was a dance of understanding, of love that didn’t need words to be spoken. Years later, when they looked back on their journey, they often told their children about the way their love had crossed oceans and defied expectations. How it hadn’t been perfect but had been real. How it had taught them that love does not ask you to erase your roots; it asks you to grow together, to create something that’s more than the sum of its parts. And every time the fog rolled into San Francisco, Shah would look at Vegernia with the same wonder he had when he first read that poem aloud. The world was still full of noise and division, but they had found something that would always remain: their rhythm, their love.
By Shah saab ITabout a year ago in Fiction
Beneath the Jasmine Sky
In the quiet town of Gulshanpur, where the air smelled of jasmine and evening tea, lived Mr. Shahdal — a young teacher with gentle eyes, a poetic soul, and a smile that carried the warmth of a summer afternoon. After years of studying literature abroad, he had returned to his hometown not just with knowledge, but with a heart full of dreams and memories that hadn’t faded.
By Shah saab ITabout a year ago in Fiction
The Timekeeper’s Gift
In the heart of a bustling city, nestled between two towering skyscrapers, there stood a quaint little antique shop. Its weathered windows, adorned with dust and cobwebs, offered a glimpse into a world untouched by time. The shop was known only to a few—those who believed in the power of forgotten things, and the strange magic that often resides in objects of the past.
By Mahveen khanabout a year ago in Fiction
