fact or fiction
Is it a fact or is it merely fiction? Fact or Fiction explores relationship myths and truths to get your head out of the clouds and back into romantic reality.
The Bizarre Case of the Water-Powered Car Inventor
The story of the water-powered car inventor, whose untimely death sparked controversy and conspiracy theories, stands as one of the most fascinating tales in the realm of alternative energy. This inventor dedicated his life to developing a vehicle that could run on water, a concept that challenges conventional fuel use. However, the circumstances surrounding his death—marked by the haunting phrase “They poisoned me”—have led to a lasting enigma that continues to capture public interest. A Visionary in Energy Innovation The inventor was a passionate advocate for renewable energy, asserting that cars could run efficiently on water as fuel instead of fossil fuels. His research and experiments aimed to revolutionize the automotive industry and reduce dependency on non-renewable resources. Although the scientific community was skeptical, he garnered a following of believers who were eager to embrace a future where clean energy was within reach. His claims involved groundbreaking technology that promised not only to benefit the environment but also to disrupt the status quo of the energy sector. His enthusiasm and infectious spirit inspired many to dream of an eco-friendly future free from fuel crises and pollution. The Mysterious Circumstances of His Death However, everything changed when he died under suspicious conditions. Reports suggest that he made alarming claims regarding his health shortly before his death, alleging that he had been poisoned. This revelation shocked those close to him and fueled speculation that powerful interests might have sought to silence him due to his revolutionary ideas. Friends and family recounted stories of how the inventor felt increasingly paranoid, believing he was being targeted for his innovations. The expression “They poisoned me,” became a chilling echo that raised questions: Was it merely paranoia, or was it a real threat reflecting a deeper conspiracy? The unsettling nature of his last words left many to wonder about the true fate of a dreamer who sought to change the world. The Impact on Alternative Energy Discourse His death brought the issues surrounding alternative energy into focus, igniting discussions regarding energy independence, corporate interests, and societal resistance to groundbreaking innovations. Many conspiracy theories emerged, with some suggesting that oil companies or government entities may have had a hand in suppressing his work—aligning with fears that disruptive technologies can pave the way for significant changes that powerful industries resist. While the scientific community may have dismissed his ideas at the time, his story highlights the resistance faced by pioneers who dare to challenge established norms. The whispers of conspiracy have continued to increase interest in alternative fuel sources, prompting others to revisit ideas once thought to be impossibly ahead of their time. Investigating the Legacy Left Behind In the aftermath of the inventor's death, investigations into his claims and technology began to resurface. Enthusiasts and engineers began re-examining his work and seeking ways to develop his concepts. Though the absence of conclusive evidence regarding his poisoning remains disturbing, it has not deterred innovators from pursuing green technology. His story serves both as a cautionary tale about the dangers faced by those who challenge conventional wisdom and as an inspiration for future generations to explore new frontiers in energy. Whether his work will stand the test of time may depend on society's readiness to embrace alternative solutions to pressing environmental challenges. Conclusion: A Cautionary Tale of Innovation and Fear The saga of the water-powered car inventor is one that blends ambition, tragedy, and the thirst for change. While his tragic end raises serious ethical considerations about how society treats innovators, it also underscores the importance of fostering an environment where groundbreaking ideas can flourish without fear. As people ponder the balance between innovative spirit and societal constraints, the legacy of this inventor continues to fuel discussions about sustainable energy and the price of progress. His tale is a reminder that the pursuit of a better future can sometimes come with unexpected costs, but it also holds the potential for lasting transformation and hope.
By DigitalAddiabout a year ago in Humans
The Pashtun Tahafuz Movement
The Pashtun Tahafuz Movement: A Voice for Justice Amidst Enduring Challenges Introduction: A Movement Born from Injustice The Pashtun Tahafuz Movement (PTM) has emerged as one of the most prominent grassroots movements in Pakistan’s recent history. Focused on advocating for the human rights of the Pashtun community, PTM was launched in 2018 following the extrajudicial killing of Naqeebullah Mehsud, a young man from South Waziristan. The movement has since evolved into a broader call for dignity, justice, and accountability in regions long marred by conflict, displacement, and neglect.
By Zahir Ahmadabout a year ago in Humans
How Color Affects Our Mood
Have you ever stepped into a room and instantly felt a sense of calm—or, on the other hand, an unexpected surge of energy? Chances are, the colors around you were influencing your emotions. This fascinating connection between colors and feelings is the core of what psychologists call color psychology.
By Shoaib Afridiabout a year ago in Humans
World’s largest Legoland opens to tourists in Shanghai
**World’s Largest Legoland Opens to Tourists in Shanghai** Shanghai has officially become home to the world’s largest Legoland resort. The much-anticipated Legoland Shanghai Resort opened its gates to the public on July 5, 2025, marking a major milestone in China’s family entertainment industry. Located in Fengjing, Jinshan District, the park spans an impressive 318,000 square meters, making it the largest Legoland in the world.
By GLOBAL NEWSabout a year ago in Humans
The Call That Saved a Life
It was a cold Sunday evening in November 2023. The streets of a small town on the outskirts of Lahore, Pakistan, were unusually quiet. The day had faded into night, and a chilling silence had settled in the air. Streetlights flickered. Dogs barked in the distance. Inside a dimly lit room, 22-year-old Hamza sat still on the edge of his bed, lost in a storm of thoughts that no one else could hear. On the outside, Hamza looked like any ordinary young man—average height, calm face, neatly combed black hair. But inside, he was a battlefield of despair. A few months earlier, Hamza had been working at a small textile company. It wasn’t a fancy job, but it helped keep his family afloat. He was the eldest of four siblings and the only breadwinner after his father suffered a paralyzing stroke. His mother, though strong-willed, could only do so much by sewing clothes from home. Life wasn’t easy—but Hamza tried. He really did. Then came the layoff. The factory cut down staff due to budget issues, and Hamza was let go. At first, he told himself it was temporary. “Allah will make a way,” he repeated to his mother. But days turned into weeks. Weeks into months. Every job hunt ended in rejection. The little savings they had were used to buy medicines for his father. Soon, even electricity bills went unpaid. With each passing day, Hamza started sinking deeper into hopelessness. His self-worth diminished. He avoided friends, ignored calls, and started spending entire days locked inside his room. He wasn’t lazy—he was simply tired. Tired of fighting a battle alone that no one could see. One day, after returning from yet another failed job interview, something broke inside him. That night, Hamza quietly tore a page from his notebook and wrote a short letter. > “I tried. I really did. But I’ve become a burden. I’m sorry, Ammi. Tell Abbu I love him.” He folded the note, placed it under his pillow, and left the house quietly while everyone slept. He knew a shortcut that led to the railway tracks. It wasn’t far. Just ten minutes away. The cold wind pierced his skin as he walked. His heart pounded, but his mind was numb. He was almost there. And then… his phone rang. Hamza paused. He looked down. It was Bilal—an old school friend. They hadn’t spoken in months. The call stopped. Then rang again. And again. Hamza was about to silence it when something made him pick up. “Hello?” he said, his voice hollow. “Yaar, Hamza! Where’ve you been?” Bilal’s cheerful voice came through. “I was just thinking about you. It’s been ages.” Hamza didn’t reply. He stared blankly at the ground. “Hello? You there?” Bilal asked again, sensing the stillness. “Yeah…” Hamza finally muttered. “I’m here.” “You sound… off. Are you okay?” Something cracked in Hamza. His lips trembled, and tears filled his eyes. And then—he broke. He cried, uncontrollably. Loud, painful sobs that echoed into the night. Bilal, stunned, fell silent—but didn’t hang up. “Hamza… what’s going on? Tell me.” And Hamza did. For the first time in months, he poured everything out. The layoffs. The pain. The shame. The fear of becoming a failure. The note. The plan. “I was going to end it tonight,” he whispered. There was a long pause. And then Bilal said the words Hamza didn’t know he needed: “Don’t. I don’t care about your job. I care about you. You’re not a burden, bro. You’re human. You’re my friend. Let’s figure this out—together.” They stayed on the call for over two hours. Bilal talked. Listened. Reminded Hamza of who he used to be—the boy who once dreamed of becoming an engineer, the one who stood up to a bully in 9th grade, the one who once gave his own lunch to a classmate because he forgot his. By the end of the call, Hamza had turned back home. He tore the note into pieces and flushed it. --- A Silent Epidemic Hamza’s story is heartbreakingly common. Mental health, especially in South Asian societies, is still brushed under the rug. Depression is called laziness. Anxiety is seen as weakness. And suicidal thoughts? They’re labeled as un-Islamic, shameful, or attention-seeking. But none of that is true. According to the World Health Organization, more than 700,000 people die by suicide each year—that’s one person every 40 seconds. In Pakistan alone, estimates suggest over 19,000 suicides annually, with countless more attempts that go unreported due to social stigma. Most people who think about suicide don’t want to die. They just want the pain to stop. They feel trapped. And when no one checks in, no one listens, and no one notices—they start to believe the world is better off without them. But here’s the truth: connection saves lives. --- What You Can Learn From This You don’t need to be a psychologist to save someone. You don’t need money or solutions. Sometimes, all you need to do is show up. Listen. Call. Send a message. Let them know they’re not alone. If someone around you: Suddenly withdraws from social life Gives away personal belongings Talks about feeling hopeless or useless Mentions death or jokes about dying Has extreme mood swings or changes in sleep patterns Don’t ignore it. Ask. Listen. Be there. It might feel uncomfortable—but asking someone, “Are you okay?” can change the course of their life. --- Where Is Hamza Now? It’s been eight months since that night. Hamza is still healing, but he’s alive—and that’s what matters. Bilal helped him find an online freelancing opportunity. It wasn’t much, but it gave him hope. Later, Hamza joined a local delivery company part-time. With time, he began contributing again at home. He also connected with a small mental health awareness group that provides anonymous support to youth dealing with depression. He now volunteers, often taking late-night calls from strangers—hoping to be their Bilal. --- Final Thought: Be someone’s call. Be someone’s reason to hold on. You never know how close someone is to giving up. Your one message, one check-in, one "I'm here if you need to talk"—can make all the difference. Let Hamza’s story remind you: You don’t need to fix the world. Just don’t ignore the ones in it.
By Muhammad Usamaabout a year ago in Humans
The Man Who Survived the Mountains
It was January 2018, the heart of winter in Pakistan, when 29-year-old Shahbaz, a freelance photographer and nature enthusiast from Lahore, decided to travel to the northern areas for solitude and soul-searching. Recently heartbroken, disillusioned, and creatively burned out, Shahbaz was desperate for a change of scene. He chose the snow-covered valleys of Naran and Saif-ul-Muluk Lake—not for tourism, but for peace. For silence. For answers. "I needed to feel small again," he later said, "To remind myself that heartbreak wasn’t the end of the world." Armed with his Canon DSLR, a journal, a thermos, sleeping bag, power banks, and a few food rations, he planned a simple three-day trip. Everyone warned him—locals, shopkeepers, even a chaiwala in Balakot. The mountains were treacherous that season. Snowstorms came without warning. Visibility could drop to zero in seconds. But Shahbaz wasn’t looking for safety. He was looking to feel something—anything. --- Day One: Into the White Silence Shahbaz reached Naran around 10 AM on a Monday morning. It was eerily quiet, the streets half-buried in snow. Tourism was off-season, and only a few local families remained. By noon, Shahbaz began his hike toward Lake Saif-ul-Muluk, 8 km away and 10,578 feet above sea level. The trail was challenging but stunning—virgin snow, towering pines, and nothing but the sound of wind and his own footsteps. He clicked photos like a man possessed: frozen trees, icicles hanging from branches, footprints in the snow that led to nowhere. But at 3:30 PM, the sky changed. Dark clouds rolled in fast. A snowstorm—sudden and blinding—engulfed the entire valley. Within minutes, Shahbaz could no longer see the path. His phone had lost all signal. Panic settled in his chest like cold steel. “I wasn’t scared of dying,” he later wrote in his journal, “I was scared of disappearing—without a trace.” He kept moving, hoping to find shelter. Snow clung to his beard, his eyelashes, even his camera lens. Every direction looked the same: white, endless, empty. By 6 PM, he gave up. His hands were shaking uncontrollably. He found a rocky overhang and crawled underneath, wrapping himself in his sleeping bag. His last thought before sleep was simple: “Just survive till morning.” --- Day Two: Hunger, Cold, and Clarity Shahbaz woke up numb. Literally. His fingers were frostbitten, his lips cracked, and his water bottle had frozen solid. He had some nuts and dry biscuits but couldn’t feel his hands enough to open the pack. That morning, he yelled for help for the first time. His voice echoed back—mocking, hollow. He built a crude fire using a small emergency candle, melting snow for water. His sleeping bag was wet. His journal pages were crumpled and stained. Time felt warped. Daylight offered no warmth. That night, the silence felt heavier than the snow. He thought of his parents. He thought of the girl who had walked out of his life months ago. He thought of how many times he had ignored love for ambition. Alone in the wilderness, he finally cried. And then, he prayed. --- Day Three: The Eyes in the Dark He hadn’t slept. His face burned from wind exposure. At noon, he heard something—snow crunching behind the rocks. A pair of yellow eyes appeared. A Himalayan wolf. Tall, strong, and terrifyingly calm. It stared at him for what felt like an hour. Shahbaz held his breath, gripping a stick he knew would be useless. But the wolf didn’t attack. It stared, sniffed the air, and slowly walked away—disappearing into the trees. That moment changed him. “If even a wolf could show mercy,” he later said, “then maybe I should too—on myself.” He decided to follow the direction the wolf had come from. Maybe it came from somewhere lower… warmer. --- Day Four: The Shepherd’s Hut Hours passed. His legs were barely working. Blisters had burst inside his shoes. But by sunset, he saw something—smoke. Not from a person, but from an old chimney. It was a shepherd’s hut, abandoned for winter. The door creaked open. Inside, it smelled of ash and rot, but it was shelter. There were a few forgotten supplies: a rusted pot, a bottle of kerosene, and some dry lentils. He used the last of his energy to light a fire. That night, he wrote in his journal: "If I make it out of here, I’ll never take a single breath for granted." --- Day Five: Return from the Dead The next morning, he was discovered by a small group of villagers checking on their livestock. At first, they thought he was a thief or a ghost—his face was blackened with frostbite, his lips bloodied. When he spoke, barely above a whisper, they immediately carried him down on a mule. At the village clinic, the doctor said he was “minutes from death.” His first phone call was to his mother. She cried so hard she couldn’t speak. When she finally did, she said, "Beta, tu dobara kabhi akele nahi jayega." --- The Story Goes Viral A fellow traveler later shared Shahbaz’s story and some of his journal pages on Facebook. Within days, it went viral. TV channels called. A documentary crew contacted him. People called him "The Man Who Came Back from the Snow." But Shahbaz never chased the fame. Instead, he started a small survival school in Lahore. He teaches others how to survive the wilderness—but more importantly, how to listen to their inner silence. He still visits the mountains once a year—but never alone. And he never forgets the wolf who looked into his soul. --- Final Words from Shahbaz’s Journal: "I went to escape pain. But nature didn’t let me forget. It made me face it—completely. I found myself not when I was surrounded by people… …but when I was inches away from death and chose to fight back."
By Muhammad Usamaabout a year ago in Humans
A familiar Stranger
Clifford was a very good friend of mine, a very nosy one. He gave out my contact to Roland, a friend of his friend because he felt we were a good match, without my permission. When he was done with the matchmaking, he showed me pictures of my “match”. He was light-skinned, tall and very handsome, with a nice body build, not excessive, just perfect. We talked for a few days, and then fixed a date to meet. I remember the first time we met: the bike stopped at the roadside, leaving me standing in the open, with my phone pressed to my ear as it rang from his call. I scanned my surroundings, trying to make sense of where I was, but the only clear path led to a wide, open, sandy football field stretching between me and wherever Roland was waiting. The sun had started its descent, casting long shadows across the dry grass. “Just keep walking straight”, his voice came through the phone, warm and teasing; “Can’t you see me?” I squinted, searching the distance, but all I saw was the soft blur of the fading daylight. Yeah I think I can see your silhouette now. I could not see his face but I could tell he was as handsome, or even more than the pictures I had seen. He laughed. “The whole World can see me except you”, he said as he walked across the field. I shook my head, smiling to myself. If the whole world could see you, you would disappear; that is too many eyes on one person. “I would not disappear”, he said playfully. “I would love to be somewhere everyone can see me.” We were both walking, now, moving towards each other across the empty field. The air was thick, a little dusty, with the quiet hum of the evening. The earth beneath me was soft but uneven. I don’t like that, I admitted. I don’t like being in the spotlight. “Why not?” His tone was curious, amused. “To be seen; is not a bad thing.” Yes, it is not bad. I just don’t want all that attention. It feels… overwhelming, I answered. “Look at celebrities,” he argued. Everyone sees them all the time. They don’t disappear. I smirked, shaking my head even though he couldn’t see that. It is not the same thing. None of them is seen by everyone in the world at the same time. It's like scattered vision, Millions of people, yes, but not all eyes on them at once, and certainly not physically. “Hmm,” he mused. “So you wouldn't want to be famous?” Not in the way that makes me feel like I am standing in the middle of a stage with nowhere to hide, I said honestly. I can be seen… by the right people, at the right time. He let out a thoughtful hmmm. “I think I would like to be seen. Like fully seen. No hiding, no waiting for the right time.” I smiled. That’s where we are different. Our voices carried across the phone and open air, blending into something surreal. Step by step, the distance between us closed. His figure sharpened against the dusky backdrop, the golden glow of the evening settling around us like something out of a movie, just as the sun set behind him. Finally, we met in the middle of the field, right there, where the world felt quiet and time felt slow. A soft chuckle. A lingering gaze. Too shy to hug each other, we pretended not to want to. Without a word, we started walking back to his place, side by side, the call ending, it was no longer needed. It was simple. It was unexpected. And yet, it was magical. At his house, the air inside was warm and welcoming, like it knew someone was coming. It carried his scent, the quiet hum of a space that belonged to him. I stepped in, taking in my surroundings. I reached for a chair, his chair apparently, but before I could settle and sit, before I even had time to notice him behind me, I felt his hands on me. In one swift, effortless move, he flipped me from behind, catching me completely off guard. A surprised gasp left my lips, my body instinctively tensing as he guided me into another chair, this time facing him directly. For a moment, I just stared at him, breathless from the sudden movement and slight shock. His hands lingered for a second, steadying me before he leaned back into his chair, watching me with a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. “That chair means something to me,” he said, as though that explained everything. I could only shake my head, amused yet intrigued, my body buzzing from the unexpected flip. You could have told me instead of flipping me like that, I said pouting. He chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Where is the fun in that?” We talked about everything and nothing at all. Our words filled the space between us, and we conversed effortlessly. It felt so natural, as pieces of ourselves unravelled, pulling us closer in ways neither of us had anticipated. The more we spoke, the more I saw him, and the more he saw me. It was like finding a missing part of myself in someone else, a strange chemistry neither of us could ignore. At some point, we found ourselves standing on the balcony. The night stretched endlessly before us, the city below twinkling with lights like fallen stars. The houses were scattered dots of warmth in the darkness, their glows pulsing like quiet heartbeats. The air between us had changed. It wasn't just chemistry anymore, it was something heavier. Something dangerous. I could feel it, in the space he didn't leave between us, In how low his voice had dropped, softer, heavier and more intimate. In the rhythm of my slowing breath. In the way my fingers tingled with the need to touch him. And then … “Hug me,” he said. His voice was soft but also dominant. Beneath it, a slight hesitation and something unspoken. I hesitated for only a second, looking up at him before turning to face him. The moment I wrapped my arms around him, I heard it, his heartbeat. Rapid and strong, thrumming against my own chest. My breath caught in my throat. My own pulse, once steady, was now hammering wildly. And then… his arms came around me. His hands were warm as they slid over my back, gripping me a little tighter, as though he didn't want to let go. That was when I felt his hands shaking, and then his shoulders dropped as his body relaxed. It wasn't just me. He was feeling it too, this thing between us, this unbearable pull, was real. We stood there for what felt like forever, just holding each other. But when I finally let go, trying to pull away, his grip tightened. “Is that all?” He murmured against my hair. “Hug me longer.” Something about the way he said it, low and seductive, sent a tremor down my spine. So I did, I leaned in and held him tighter. And in that moment, I knew there was no escaping this. I had found my safe space. I wanted to be able to return to those arms when the world was harsh, or when the world had turned its back on me. Suddenly, he pulled me back, just slightly, just enough to look at me. And before I could react, his lips pressed gently against my forehead. Then my left cheek and my right cheek. And then … His lips found mine. Soft, slow, searching. “Soft and sweet,” he murmured between my lips, and I couldn't help but blush. The world around us blurred, everything else fading into the background. The only thing I could feel was his mouth moving against mine, coaxing, deepening. Desire crashed over us like a tidal wave, unstoppable, consuming. His hands were everywhere, exploring, gripping, learning. My own hands weren't idle either, tracing the shape of him, feeling the way his body responded to mine. Our breaths were uneven, heavy, mingling in the space between stolen kisses. We lost control. Before I knew it, we stumbled back inside. The balcony door shut behind us, locking the night out, leaving only us, only this. And that was the genesis. Roland was not cruel. He was kindhearted, far too kind. The kind of Man, who saw the bruises on your soul and praised your strength without asking how long you’d been bleeding. He didn’t want to hurt me, but he didn’t want to fight for me either. And I? I wanted to be loved, not saved, not admired. I wanted to be loved fully, recklessly, and honestly. But he… he hesitated. He held himself back. And hesitation is its own kind of heartbreak. It calmly tears you into pieces. I kept making myself smaller. Narrowing down my truth, shrinking my needs, hiding my vulnerability like he could only handle love in doses. All because I was desperate, I was in love. He liked my fire, from a distance, but he never stepped into it. Somewhere along the line, silence became our language. We stopped asking the hard questions, we stopped leaning in. We just held hands and walked down the lonely road of knowing. Knowing it would end, knowing he wouldn’t choose us. So we chose peace, we never fought, we never screamed, we just slowly stopped. He once said, “You deserve the world”. But he never tried to be it, or give it. Today we have a dinner date at 6:00pm. Is he going to end it? What’s on his mind? He can do it over the phone... Should I go? So many thoughts flooded my mind after I received his invitation text. I put on my lovely dinner gown. I’ve had it for 3 years now, tags still on. It was a gift from Mabel, but I never had a reason to wear it, until today. If he’s going to end it with me, I might as well look gorgeous… and unaffected. I got to our table, and his face said it all. My heart was beating fast, I could feel it in my stomach. I shouldn’t have come, I said to myself. Roland asked me to order what I wanted. He had already ordered some yoghurt for me, he knew how much I loved it. After we placed our order, he held my hand across the table, looked into my eyes and said: “Anastasia I am sorry. I’m sorry for not being intentional, For not treating you like the princess you are. You are such an amazing woman yet, I’ve been taking your love for granted. I take responsibility for my actions, and I want to treat you the way you deserve, from today. I want to make you happy. Please, give me a second chance.” Am I dreaming? No, I must be dreaming, I pinched myself in disbelief, tears dropping from my eyes, Roland was asking me for a second chance. “I mean it this time,” he said looking into my eyes with a softness I had never seen before. I smiled and said, Yes. Let’s try a second time… and let’s give it our best. The rest of our time together was filled with laughter and the hope of a new beginning. I was happy. And he was happy too. He made so many promises, and I couldn’t wait for him to begin fulfilling them. In the car, as we were driving home, he said he had just realized that he loved me more than he knew, that I was his happiness. I had lost count of how many times my ears and cheeks turned red from blushing. When he dropped me off and left, I screamed, jumped, and danced out all the excitement I had been holding in. I took a shower and prepared to go to bed. I texted him, asking if he had arrived home and freshened up. He didn’t respond. After a few minutes, I texted him goodnight, assuming he might have fallen asleep. I was too excited and didn’t fall asleep two hours later. In the morning, I checked my inbox, he still hadn’t viewed my messages. Maybe he’s still asleep, I thought. I got ready and went to school. Anytime I had a chance, I checked again. School ended by 4 PM… and still nothing. Did he lie to me? What was all that yesterday? He couldn’t even try for one day? I was angry. I refused to believe Roland would treat me this way. I dialed his number. It was switched off. I felt so wronged. So I decided to ignore him too. I didn’t deserve this kind of treatment. Three days later, still no call. No text. Nothing. So I decided to go to his house, even though I knew I wouldn’t get in unless he called his estate security. When I got there, just as I expected, they refused me access and his line was switched off. I sat outside, hoping I’d see his brother or neighbors, someone I could ask about him. After two hours of waiting without luck, I started to leave. But then, luckily, I met his neighbor on my way out. He said he hadn’t seen Roland for about three days. Had something happened to him? What exactly is going on? Did he abandon me? I was scared. Worried. Angry. Disappointed. I didn’t know which feeling was right. I kept texting and calling, but I couldn’t reach him. I visited all the clubs where he played snooker, he wasn’t there. They had not seen him in a while. I went to his work place, and I was told he hadn’t been at work. They refused to give me more information. Everywhere I turned was a dead end. I gave up after two weeks of searching, hovering around his estate and workplace like a stalker. It was the last day of our exam, the exam that had started a month after the last time I saw Roland. It had been a month of stress and pressure. My friends and I were on our way to celebrate five years of hard work in the university. When we got there, Audrey nudged me. “Is that not Roland?” she said. “Is that the woman he left you for?” Before she could finish her sentence, I dashed out forgetting everything, rushing to meet him. I pounced on him and hugged him tight. But it only lasted a few seconds before he yanked me off his body. I was excited. You’re alright!! I thought something had happened to you! But then… I noticed his gaze. “Who are you?” he yelled. Caught off guard, I shivered. Wait what? I didn’t hear that right did I? Was it because of this woman? Who is she? I retorted. He was shocked. But why? Roland, you left me exactly two months ago! You disappeared into thin air after promising me the world! Do you know how lost and miserable I’ve been, wondering, praying that you were ok and you show up with another woman… shamelessly? He looked lost and confused, and I couldn’t get it. “I don’t know you,” he said. “Babe, I don’t know her. I swear. Get into the car, lets leave.” They got into the car, and they left. “Ana… Ana… Ana…” Mabel called. They’ve gone, let’s go.” “Ana…” I’m sorry. I want to go home. Two weeks later I met Larry, Roland’s younger brother. I pretended not to see him and walked past. But he followed me and stopped me. “We need to talk” he said. I was hesitant, but we had always been on good terms. He hadn’t wronged me, so I followed him. “Roland had an accident on the night of January 20th , 2024” he began. I froze. That was the night I saw him last, before he disappeared. “He suffered a severe brain injury, broken ribs and other major injuries. He had multiple surgeries and just fully recovered recently.” I shook my head, confused and overwhelmed. He could’ve just told me calmly when we met, instead of behaving like that. “Yes he told me about that” Larry said, “That’s why I asked to talk to you, so I could explain everything. “Roland developed Retrograde Amnesia as a result of the brain injury. The only reason he knows I’m his brother is because we told him. When he woke up, he couldn’t recognize anyone of us. Our mom was heartbroken. Slowly we began reintroducing him to everything, to his name, his family, his life.” “Ana… Roland truly doesn’t remember you. And… he’s fallen in love with Betty, our family friend’s daughter. She was there for him throughout his recovery. That’s how they bonded.” He paused. ‘I am telling you this because I know how much closure matters. Please, Ana. I hope it’ll be easier for you to move on now, so please do.” Easier? Would it be easier? I would’ve been there for him if I had known. “Would you have left your school?” Larry asked gently. I was speechless. “Ana, don’t regret anything, just accept that this is fate. Take care of yourself, I’ll be off now.” Would it have been better if he just stayed away forever? Would it have been better if I never saw him again? Why did he have to fall for another? Did his heart forget me too? Could I have won him over again? Two months later, I run into Roland at the supermarket. All the memories came rushing back. But he didn’t even look at me twice. I would’ve been content if he remembered me as that crazy girl who pounced on him. But no. Just like me, he didn’t register the faces of strangers who meant nothing. Meanwhile, his face, his scent, was etched in my memory. I still think of that field sometimes. He was home, for a moment, but not for a lifetime. I still think of that date night and all that we could have been. I still think of how happy and enthusiastic he was when talking about treating me like a princess. Some loves are meant to be held, not kept. Lessons learned. A deep breath before the tears come. Sitting in my room reminiscing, I think of how Fate played a cruel joke on me. It let me experience a love so rare, and at the point of blooming after winter, it snatched it so brutally from me. Now, I’m a stranger to the one person who once made my world turn.
By Peace Oputaabout a year ago in Humans
Lonely Beside You
Love doesn’t always end in a fight. Sometimes, it ends in silence—in the kind of quiet where you’re still seen, but no longer felt. This is the slow heartbreak of routine, where connection fades even as love remains. It wasn’t a breakup. There were no slammed doors, no screaming matches, no dramatic exits. It was something far more haunting: distance inside togetherness. We shared the same bed, the same meals, the same Netflix account. But somewhere between the morning coffee and evening silence, we stopped truly seeing each other. Love didn’t die. It just quietly sat in the corner, waiting to be noticed. We were two people still functioning as a couple—going through motions, remembering anniversaries, taking photos at weddings—but no longer emotionally present. I started to miss him even when he was sitting right beside me. That’s the thing no one warns you about: You can love someone deeply and still feel utterly alone with them. Routine can be romantic in the beginning—knowing someone’s coffee order, predicting their reaction to a movie scene, folding laundry together. But when communication dies inside routine, love turns into a shared habit instead of a shared experience. I remember once telling him about a dream I had. He nodded without looking up. In that moment, I realized I was narrating my inner world to a wall. We had stopped being each other's home. People assume relationships end with conflict. But mine faded without noise. And that made it harder to explain—especially to myself. How do you grieve someone who still texts you “good night”? How do you explain the pain of absence when their toothbrush is still next to yours? I kept waiting for something external to shift—maybe a fight, maybe a confession. But instead, the shift was internal: I no longer felt understood. And understanding, more than love, is what sustains intimacy. One evening, I sat across from him at dinner. We had run out of small talk. There was nothing left to distract us—not even the clatter of restaurant noise. So I asked, very softly, “Do you think we’re happy?” He looked up, startled—not at the question, but that it came at all. His silence answered everything. People think love is the foundation. It’s not. Attention is.
By Mahmood Afridiabout a year ago in Humans
The Independence Day
Independence Day, in its truest essence, is the independent gasp of a nation—an intangible instant condensed into history, memory, and legend. It is not so much a date enumerated by flags and parades; it is a throb of liberty, a transcendent liberation from the silences of servitude. By definition, Independence Day is the yearly celebration of a nation's freedom from foreign rule, colonial occupation, or tyrannical authority. But under this technicality is a maze of feelings, philosophies, and obligations beyond the ink of historical proclamations.
By Muhammad Abdullahabout a year ago in Humans
