Khubaib Khan
Stories (5)
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How to Write a Goodbye Without Saying It
Some goodbyes don't come with a final hug. They’re silent, soft, sometimes even invisible folded into late replies, quiet exits, and small choices that carry the weight of oceans. We often imagine goodbye as a dramatic closure doors slamming, tears falling, voices raised. But the most powerful farewells aren’t spoken. They're felt. They're lived.
By Khubaib Khan7 months ago in Motivation
The Night That Wouldn’t End: A Story of Suspense in a Single Evening
Emma had always loved thunderstorms. There was something hypnotic about the way the sky darkened, the way the air thickened with the scent of ozone before the first raindrops fell. That evening, as she curled up on her couch with a book and a cup of tea, she barely noticed the distant rumble of thunder. The weather forecast had predicted heavy rain, but nothing out of the ordinary.
By Khubaib Khan7 months ago in Fiction
The Silent Wish
Some Thoughts Were Never Meant to Be Heard The brass lamp didn’t belong. Elena noticed it the moment the vendor stepped into her path at the flea market, his stall smelling of dust and damp wool. Wedged between yellowed paperbacks and a cracked porcelain doll, the lamp gleamed dully, its surface etched with symbols that seemed to shift if she stared too long.
By Khubaib Khan10 months ago in Fiction
The Forgotten Daughter
I still remember the exact moment I realized I was invisible in my own family. I was five years old, sitting at the kitchen table coloring a picture for you. My tongue stuck out in concentration as I tried so hard to stay inside the lines. When I proudly showed you my masterpiece, you barely glanced up from your phone. "Mmm, nice honey," you mumbled, before turning to my sister with that bright smile I rarely saw directed at me. "Sarah! Come show Mommy what you made!"
By Khubaib Khan10 months ago in Motivation
The Curse of Forever
Elena had always been practical—never one to believe in magic. But when she stumbled upon an old silver ring in her grandmother’s attic, something compelled her to slip it onto her finger. The moment she did, the air grew thick, and a shadowy figure emerged, its form shifting like smoke in candlelight.
By Khubaib Khan10 months ago in Education
