Love

A Promise in the Shadows. AI-Generated.
You have to get out of here, Zoya. This place… it’s not for you.” His voice trembled, and a strange fear danced in his eyes. I tried to pull my hands free from his grip. “Rehan, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong? Why do you seem so strange?” He stepped closer, his hands resting on my shoulders, and he shook me gently. “There’s no time, Zoya. Just trust me. I want to save you.” There was a pain in his voice, as if he were afraid to reveal some heavy secret to me. But then, his words suddenly fell silent. His face dropped forward, and his breathing seemed to stop. I reached out in panic to hold him, but before I could do anything, a shadow emerged from behind me. “Sorry, Ms. Zoya. Rehan might need some rest.” The voice was calm, but it carried a chill that sent a shiver down my spine. I turned around—it was Aisha, Rehan’s sister. In her hand was a small device, its blue light still glowing faintly. “What… what was that?” My voice quivered. Aisha smiled and slipped the device into her pocket. “Nothing, just a minor glitch. He’ll be fine soon. Go home, Zoya. I’ll take care of him.” She gestured toward the door, but there was something hidden in her eyes—a secret she didn’t want me to know. I stepped back slowly, my heart pounding. “Thank you, Aisha. I… I’m going.” But as I left, my gaze fell on Rehan, lying motionless on the floor. His face was still beautiful, but his eyes were closed, as if he had slipped into a deep sleep. --- When I got home, I sat in my room. My mind was spinning with confusion. Rehan was everything to me. We had spent months together—sitting on the rooftop at night gazing at the stars, laughing as we got drenched in the rain, and making each other’s dreams our own. He was my first love, a story I never imagined would enter my life. But today, there was a strange intensity in his words. “I want to save you”—what did that mean? And Aisha… why was she stopping him? I picked up my phone and reread his last message. “Zoya, if anything ever happens to me, just run. Don’t look back.” It was from last night, when he came to see me. The same fear I saw today had been in his eyes then. My heart started beating faster. Was he really in danger? Or… was I the one in danger? There was a knock at the door. I jolted and looked up. “Who’s there?” “Zoya, it’s me.” It was Aisha’s voice. I opened the door, and she stepped inside. She was holding the same small device. “I need to tell you something,” she said, but the coldness in her voice was gone now. She looked pained—a sister worried for her brother. “Rehan loves you, Zoya. But he couldn’t tell you who he really is. He… he’s part of a secret our family holds. And now that secret has reached you.” “What do you mean?” My breath caught in my throat. Aisha took a deep breath. “For generations, our family has upheld an ancient promise of protection. Rehan was chosen to carry it forward. But when he fell in love with you, he decided he wanted to keep you away from it. He wanted to set you free. But now… now the people behind that secret have found you.” I pressed my hands to my mouth. “So… he was trying to save me?” “Yes. And now it’s my turn.” Aisha grabbed my hand. “We don’t have much time. Before Rehan wakes up, you need to run. I’ll handle him. But promise me—you’ll never forget him.” Tears welled up in my eyes. I hugged her, then grabbed my bag. Rehan was my love, my everything. And now, for his sake, I had to leave him behind. I started running—toward a new life, but my heart would always stay with him.
By Jerry wam about a year ago in Fiction
Books, Blunders, and a Beating Heart. AI-Generated.
"I can’t believe it. She thinks I’m losing her." My college friend, Jerry, looked tired and troubled that afternoon. At the end of a semester, we all get a bit worn out, but there was something else on his face—a strange unease, as if he’d just received some heart-wrenching news. We were sitting on a quiet corner of campus, on the bench behind the library, where the autumn breeze was gently rustling the leaves. "Come on, Jerry," I said, "you’re like this every semester’s end. Your heart’s full of shiny dreams—deep talks about books, maybe some fascinating dialogue about Rumi or Jane Austen—when you look at the syllabus. By midterms, you’re irritable. Before finals, you’re ready to give up entirely. It’s our old tradition. Calm down." Jerry looked at me like I’d just broken his favorite pen. There was a strange shimmer in his brown eyes, trembling like the leaves in the sunlight. "It’s not a joke, Alina," he said, setting his bag down on the ground. "This isn’t just some typical semester fatigue or shattered dreams. Do you remember last week when we were talking about *Pride and Prejudice*? You were defending Elizabeth Bennet’s independence, saying she stood by her principles—not a common take, but an interesting one—and I was going on about Darcy’s quiet pain, his loneliness, and the burden of love?" I nodded with a smile. When Jerry talked about books, there was a passion in his voice that always drew me in. The trick to pulling him out of his thoughts was simple: just get him talking about a story or a character. He had this odd theory about *The Great Gatsby* that he could ramble on about for hours. I was about to nudge him that way, but he was saying something else—maybe a confession. "Yeah," I said, "I think we went from Austen to Hemingway that day. I’d had way too much coffee; my head was spinning." "Right. Well, I mentioned it in my lecture afterward. It was about *Wuthering Heights*. I was so excited about Heathcliff’s raw intensity and Catherine’s selfishness, how their love destroys them. I said love can be a curse too, and I think I mentioned your name—that you made me think about it." I laughed. "My name? In class? You’re really crazy, Jerry." He stood up and walked to the other end of the bench, running a hand through his hair. Then he came back and sat close to me, so close I could feel the faint warmth of his breath. There were autumn leaves tangled in his hair, and his eyes had an odd gleam. "Yeah, Alina. I said, ‘Alina made me think about how dangerous love can be.’ And then I heard myself, apologized to everyone, but I could tell they were all looking at me strangely. They thought I’d lost it—or maybe lost my heart." He reached out a hand toward me but stopped, as if unsure whether he should touch me. His voice was trembling, and there was no sound but the rustling of leaves in the breeze. "So what?" I said, leaning toward him. "We all get tangled up sometimes. Our minds are full of stories and characters, like stacks of books in the library. Last week, I said in class that Brontë wrote *Jane Eyre* when I meant *Wuthering Heights*. Someone left a ‘Professor Brontë’ note on my desk. They’re tough, but they forget. Don’t worry." "I’m trying," Jerry said, "but today, during the final review, I told them to start with chapter five, and some guy said, ‘Sir, you forgot four!’ and everyone laughed. They think I’m really losing it. I started with five because it was more interesting, but they thought it was a mistake." I looked at Jerry closely. He was lean, tired, a little disheveled. But there was that spark in his eyes I’d always liked. I put my hand on his, and he looked at me, surprised but relieved. "You’re imagining things," I said. "They mess up too. They know we’re human. Relax." I gave his hand a light squeeze, and he smiled—a small, shy smile. He stood up and grabbed his bag. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. "You’re probably right," he said. "I’m tired and fed up with everyone saying every story’s about love. I’ll be fine after the break." "See you tomorrow, Jerry," I said, brushing a leaf out of my hair. "Goodnight, Alina," he said, then paused and turned to me. "You know, you really do make me think about things—more than just books." And with that, he walked off, but I knew something had shifted between us—maybe a story was beginning, one we’d write together.
By Jerry wam about a year ago in Fiction
The Fractured Symphony of Love and Lies: When Secrets Shatter the Harmony of Two Hearts:
The music shop smelled of rosewood and regret. Clara traced her fingers over the neck of her violin, its strings humming faintly as if echoing the tension in her chest. Across the room, Daniel adjusted the sheet music for his piano recital, his brow furrowed in concentration. To outsiders, they were a duet perfected by time—a musician couple whose love bloomed alongside their shared passion for melody. But Clara’s heart beat to a dissonant rhythm now.
By Sanchita Chatterjeeabout a year ago in Fiction
The Last Stop. AI-Generated.
The old train station in Dunhill hadn’t seen a real passenger in over thirty years. The tracks were rusted, the benches half-swallowed by weeds, and the timetable board still clung to the year 1992 like it was afraid of the future. Yet every Thursday night, just after midnight, the same sound echoed through the forest that surrounded the station: the distant, rising whistle of a train.
By Wilson Burrellabout a year ago in Fiction
Human with God
Preface This story is a reflection of every soul that has ever felt distant from its Creator but longed to return. In a world full of noise, distractions, and spiritual fatigue, many of us—especially the youth—find ourselves struggling to hold on to faith, to feel that closeness with Allah that once came naturally.
By DreamLinesabout a year ago in Fiction
Small World
“My nose is weeping,” Ruth said, brow pinching. “But my nose isn’t connected to my heart.” “Either you have taken up poetry, or you have sunstroke. Technically, the nose is connected to the stomach. Delicious food smells good and makes you hungry, and food is the way to a man’s heart, or so the saying goes. Therefore, the nose is connected to the heart.”
By Eloise Robertson about a year ago in Fiction
A Night Under the Stars
A Night Under the Stars In the quiet moments before sleep, when the world feels peaceful and still, love has a way of finding its way into your heart. For Ava and Liam, that quiet night was filled with the warmth of their shared dreams, the kind that could only be whispered in the darkness of a quiet room, where the stars above seemed to echo the promises they had made to each other.
By Arshad Aliabout a year ago in Fiction
My Roommate is a Secret Prince (And Now I’m His Royal Mistake
The first clue should’ve been the crown-shaped birthmark on his left butt cheek. But no—I was too busy screaming at Liam for using my favorite mug (again) to notice the way he stiffened when the news played footage of "missing Prince Alexander of Eldoria."
By Wiki Rjmabout a year ago in Fiction
“In the Silence of My Heart”
I saw her every day. From a distance. Without a sound, without any hope. She was the center of my universe. But to her…
By sufyan ahmed about a year ago in Fiction
WE MET IN AN ELEVATOR DURING A BLACKOUT. THE LIGHTS CAME ON TOO SOON. SHOCKING FINALE
The silver ring burned in my palm as we raced toward Ethan’s dorm, rain slicing through the city like shards of glass. Daniel’s confession replayed in my mind—staged meetings, fake blackouts, a family empire built on testing loyalties.
By Wiki Rjmabout a year ago in Fiction
The Breakup That Found Me
It was a cold Tuesday morning when I woke up to a message that would change my life forever. The text was simple, but the words hit like a freight train: "I think we need to talk. It's over." My heart raced as I read it over and over, unable to comprehend what it meant. I had always thought we were meant to be. We had built a life together—shared dreams, plans, even silly inside jokes. How could it be over?
By Farhanabout a year ago in Fiction
The Lion and the Mouse
Long ago, in a sun-dappled forest where the trees whispered secrets to the wind and rivers sang lullabies to the earth, lived a mighty lion named Barafu. He was known across the land as the King of the Forest — strong, proud, and feared by all.
By Farhanabout a year ago in Fiction