Abuzar khan
Stories (123)
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The Rain Taught Me to Breathe
For the longest time, I didn’t know how to breathe. Not the kind of breathing that keeps your heart beating, but the kind that keeps your spirit alive. The kind that fills your lungs not just with air, but with hope. That kind of breathing.
By Abuzar khan7 months ago in Humans
The Silence Between Us
We didn’t stop talking all at once. That’s not how silence works. It crept in slowly, like fog at dawn—soft, subtle, and nearly invisible at first. I wish I could say there was one final moment, one loud argument or slammed door, but the truth is quieter. And somehow, that hurts more.
By Abuzar khan7 months ago in Humans
The Rain in Her Bones
Mira was born during a monsoon. Her mother used to say it rained for seven days and seven nights, as if the clouds themselves were crying — not from sorrow, but from a fierce, wild joy. Or maybe it was a warning. The kind of warning only nature could give, heavy and relentless.
By Abuzar khan7 months ago in Fiction
The Door That Only Opens from the Inside
I didn’t realize I was shutting myself away. Not at first. It started quietly. Like most things do. A whisper rather than a scream. I stopped answering messages, one by one, until silence became my default. I stopped showing up to the things I once loved — the book club, the weekend hikes, the Friday night dinners. I told people I was tired, busy, overwhelmed. And they believed me — even when I didn’t fully believe myself.
By Abuzar khan7 months ago in Psyche
The Letter He’ll Never Read
Dear Aamir, You’ll never read this. I won’t send it. I don’t even know where you live anymore. Maybe halfway across the world, maybe just a few blocks away. But that doesn’t matter, does it? Distance stopped being about miles a long time ago. It became something heavier — a space between us filled with silence and unanswered questions.
By Abuzar khan7 months ago in Confessions
She Carried the Sky on Her Back
When I think of strength, I don’t think of iron or stone. I think of my sister. Her name was Safiya, and she was born during the hottest summer our village had ever seen. The kind of heat that clings to your ribs and wraps around your breath. They say the sky was red when she came into the world — angry, beautiful, and wide.
By Abuzar khan7 months ago in Fiction
A House with No Locks
It sat at the edge of a quiet town, half swallowed by trees and half forgotten by time — a house with no locks. Its windows blinked open every morning to the light, and its door never made a sound. No key had ever turned in its frame. There were no alarms, no barriers, no secrets.
By Abuzar khan7 months ago in Fiction
The Things I Inherited That Weren’t Objects
People talk a lot about inheritance — houses, rings, furniture passed down from generation to generation. The physical things, the treasures, the memories captured in photographs and objects. But my family didn’t have those things. We didn’t have china cabinets heavy with delicate dishes or dusty albums bursting with smiling ancestors frozen in time. No heirlooms passed carefully from hand to hand. What we had instead was something invisible, yet just as heavy. We had echoes.
By Abuzar khan7 months ago in Fiction
The Day My Mother Forgot My Name
It was a Thursday. I remember because I’d taken the afternoon off work, telling my boss I needed “family time.” What I didn’t say was that I’d been preparing myself — mentally, emotionally — for what felt inevitable. And still, nothing prepared me for that moment.
By Abuzar khan7 months ago in Humans
I Saw Myself in a Stranger
It was one of those cold, grey mornings where the sky looks like it forgot how to smile. I had barely slept the night before. Work stress, unpaid bills, too many emails, and not enough peace. I grabbed my usual coffee, the one that always tasted more bitter than bold, and walked briskly toward the station.
By Abuzar khan7 months ago in Humans
The Boy Who Danced in the Rain
In a quiet village surrounded by green fields and sleepy skies, there lived a boy who danced in the rain. His name was Ayaan, though most of the villagers simply called him “that odd boy with bare feet and wild steps.” He was about fifteen, with eyes like storm clouds and a heart full of rhythm. He had no siblings, no toys, and not much money. But he had something rare — a soul that sang with the sky.
By Abuzar khan7 months ago in Humans
