For a long time, Aman told himself he was in control. The bottle on his table wasn’t a problem—it was a solution. A way to sleep without nightmares, to quiet…
Until the age of thirteen, Riya believed her father was simply strict. He woke her up early every morning, insisted she finish homework before television, and checked her grades with…
The first thing Maya noticed about Room 214 was the silence. Hospitals were never truly quiet—machines beeped, carts rattled, footsteps echoed—but this room felt withdrawn from all of it. The…
The alarm rang at 5:30 a.m., sharp and unforgiving. Vikram silenced it instantly, already half-awake. His life ran on schedules—meetings, deadlines, flights, targets. Even his mornings felt like tasks to…
The café still smelled like burnt coffee and old memories. Nisha hadn’t planned to stop there. Her feet had simply carried her inside, as if muscle memory knew the way…
The notebook lay hidden beneath the mattress, its pages filled with sketches, lyrics, and unfinished dreams. Sixteen-year-old Rhea took it out only at night, when the house was quiet and…
The house on Gulmohar Street had learned how to stay silent. Once, it echoed with laughter, arguments, and the clatter of shared meals. Now, it held its breath, as if…
Mira learned early how to shrink. She lowered her voice in classrooms, hid behind loose clothes, laughed at jokes that hurt, and avoided mirrors whenever she could. Compliments made her…
For years, Sana believed love was supposed to hurt. If it didn’t hurt, she thought, it wasn’t real. That belief kept her tied to people who drained her, dismissed her,…
For a long time, Kabir believed beauty lived somewhere else. In big cities with glowing skylines. In people who traveled freely. In moments captured perfectly on screens. His own life…
The first time Leena met Mr. Joseph, it was raining. Hard. She stood under the broken bus stop shelter, clutching her bag and wondering how much worse the day could…
For most of her life, Pooja believed her father was simply unlucky. Things never worked out for him the way they did for others. Jobs didn’t last. Money was always…
The train station smelled of rain and old memories. Ananya stood near Platform 3, clutching her bag tightly, watching people rush past—some arriving, some leaving, all carrying stories she would…
The message glowed on the screen, sharp and unforgiving. I never meant to hurt you. But I don’t regret what I did. Those words reopened wounds Aarav had spent months…
Everyone in Class 9-B knew Arman as “that boy.” The one who sat at the back with his hoodie pulled low. The one who never did homework. The one teachers…
The card was crooked. The paper was folded unevenly, the edges torn slightly because the scissors had slipped. Inside, the letters wobbled, some bigger than others, written with intense concentration.…