Habib Ur Heman
Stories (8)
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Love is Eternal Flame
In the quiet village of Ardenshire, nestled among rolling hills and ancient woods, the townsfolk spoke in hushed tones about a flame that never died—a soft, golden glow flickering endlessly atop a lone candle in the chapel ruins. It was said to burn for a love too powerful for time to silence.
By Habib Ur Heman 7 months ago in Lifehack
The Hands That Held Me Up
I never realized my father was a hero until long after I stopped calling him one. Growing up, I thought heroes were loud — capes, medals, grand speeches. My father was none of those. He was quiet, ordinary in the way a tree is ordinary — always there, deeply rooted, never asking to be noticed. His name was Arun, and to most of the world, he was just a mechanic with oil-stained hands and a tired back.
By Habib Ur Heman 7 months ago in Families
The Heart That Raised Me
I never understood how much my mother gave me until she was gone. When I was a child, I thought love meant gifts, attention, and grand gestures — the kind I saw in movies. My mother’s love never looked like that. It looked like early mornings and late nights, like calloused hands and silent prayers, like worn shoes that never got replaced because mine were falling apart.
By Habib Ur Heman 7 months ago in Families
Beneath the Same Stars
It was always the stars. Every night, Ella would sit by the window of her tiny apartment in Brooklyn, cup of chamomile in hand, and gaze up at the sky. The city’s lights blurred the view, but she searched for the same three stars she always did — the ones arranged in a crooked triangle. Liam used to call them “our stars,” back when they’d lie on the old dock in their hometown of Blue Ridge and trace constellations with their fingers.
By Habib Ur Heman 7 months ago in Motivation
Bittersweet Moments
The old railway station hadn’t changed in years. Same creaky wooden benches, same rusting signage, and the same faint scent of engine oil mixed with old paper tickets. Yet to Aarav, it felt like a different world now — colder, quieter. Lonelier.
By Habib Ur Heman 7 months ago in Lifehack
Beneath the Iron Sky
The sky was never blue anymore. Not since the Core rose and closed the heavens. Now it was always gray—polished metal stretching from horizon to horizon, a massive, domed canopy forged by the Regime to keep humanity safe... or so they claimed.
By Habib Ur Heman 7 months ago in Earth
