Love

The Last Train Home
The last train of the night was almost empty. Maya sat by the window, lost in her thoughts, watching the blurred city lights rush past. She pulled her coat tighter around her—winter in New York had a way of making you feel lonelier than you really were.
By Bhagyaabout a year ago in Fiction
Window Seat
May I have your attention please, Train number 18520 from Lokamanya Tilak Terminus to Visakhapatnam, Visakhapatnam express is about to depart from platform number 3, thank you…
By Pragniaabout a year ago in Fiction
Some doors only open when you stop knocking
I lay awake at 12:34 am. I hear the rain outside as the cold, unforgiving wind seeps through my windows, entirely reminding me of the coldness of you.
By Argwyn Guiana Quintoabout a year ago in Fiction
Where the Music Stopped, We Started
The sun hit the cobblestones just right that afternoon, spilling gold over the street like something sacred. Shops buzzed, dogs barked, children weaved between legs and tables, and above it all, music floated—bright, bold, and utterly unexpected.
By Alpha Cortexabout a year ago in Fiction
Where City Lights Meet True Love
Chapter 1: Rooftop Encounter The city lights glittered below, an endless field of fireflies. Elara felt the cool summer evening breeze caress her hair. The wine in her glass was slowly evaporating as she drifted into thought. Her friend's rooftop party was a welcome escape from the chaos of the past few weeks. Yet, a sense of unease still lingered within her.
By Alpha Cortexabout a year ago in Fiction
GENTLE GHOST
Chapter 1: The Drift Apart Life had changed after high school. What was once a tightly-knit group of friends had now become fragmented, each person moving on to different colleges, different cities, and different lives. Veer had always believed that the bond they shared was unbreakable. They had laughed, fought, celebrated, and even dreamed of a future together. But as months passed without a single call or message from any of them, reality hit him like a cold wave.
By Vikineticabout a year ago in Fiction
War Bride. Top Story - April 2025.
Princess Kathryn hadn't expected to actually marry her kidnapper. Kathryn would have done her duty as it was laid before her - she'd fantasized only briefly about shipwrecks and daring rescues, or the carriage breaking a wheel and necessitating that they turn back - on her way to her wedding. The price of a princess's privilege was that her life was not hers to command, but at the service of her people. That didn't mean that she couldn't have quiet complaints about marrying someone nearly her father's age, as Duke James of Slesian was.
By Natasja Roseabout a year ago in Fiction
Eternal Tides
Prologue It was the kind of photograph that captured an entire world within a single frame: black and white, a silent beach, and a couple locked in an embrace so tender, it spoke of lifetimes entwined. The shoreline stretched endlessly, its pristine sands illuminated by a silver hue that only seemed possible in dreams. In the distance, the ocean’s horizon blurred with the sky, forming an almost mystical tapestry of waves and clouds. In this photograph, one could almost hear the waves rolling in, smell the salt in the air, and feel the soft breeze stirring the heart.
By Alpha Cortexabout a year ago in Fiction
Dying Wish
Rajan was lying on the hospital bed, his eyes were dark. The doctor had said, "Just a few days...". He called his son Rahul and handed him an old diary and said, "This has details of all my property... but read the last page only when I am gone."
By Bishnu Kumar about a year ago in Fiction
In the Playground
Okay, this is how I remember everything. It was a beautiful day. I remember it, even though I was just turning twelve. We always went out in the summer to find a park and have a picnic, and that time was no different than any other. Well, I didn't think so. Why would I? Like I said, I was just a little kid at the time (almost thirteen), and it was a great day.
By Kendall Defoe about a year ago in Fiction
Reckless Hearts. AI-Generated.
The first time Eleanor Whitmore met Sheriff James Calloway, he arrested her. Granted, she had punched a man in the face at the town saloon, but the bastard had deserved it. Calloway, however, hadn’t cared about the insult that had flown from the man’s whiskey-soaked mouth, nor the way Eleanor’s blood had boiled at the mention of her family.
By Caitlyn Cummingsabout a year ago in Fiction
Beautiful Tree. Content Warning.
Roses are red, love is fake, weddings are basically funerals with cake. That was my philosophy now that my wife of sixty years had passed.
By Alex H Mittelman about a year ago in Fiction