Muhammad Hamza Safi
Bio
Hi, I'm Muhammad Hamza Safi — a writer exploring education, youth culture, and the impact of tech and social media on our lives. I share real stories, digital trends, and thought-provoking takes on the world we’re shaping.
Stories (68)
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When Rain Fell on Our Last Goodbye
Lina had always believed in quiet love. Not the dramatic kind sung about in songs or written into the final pages of epic novels—but the kind that lived in small gestures. A warm coffee left on a desk. A forehead kiss before leaving. A shared glance in a crowded room.
By Muhammad Hamza Safi8 months ago in Humans
The Last Letter I Never Sent
ey say time heals everything, but Amara wasn’t so sure. Ten years had passed since she last saw Rayan—since that afternoon under the jacaranda trees, when everything smelled like flowers and endings. She was twenty-two, and he had just been accepted into a music program in Paris.
By Muhammad Hamza Safi8 months ago in Humans
The Sky Between Our Hands
Arwa met Zayan on the first day of university orientation. She was early, sitting alone under the giant banyan tree in the courtyard, sketching the clouds above. He was late, running across the lawn, his camera swinging from his neck and his shoes untied.
By Muhammad Hamza Safi8 months ago in Poets
When the Stars Forgot Our Names
In a town so small that everyone’s name fit in a single phone book, Ayan and Lina grew up next door to each other. They were the kind of children who climbed rooftops and named constellations like they belonged to them. They shared secrets between tree branches, passed notes through the cracks in the fence, and promised never to forget each other—even if the world tried to make them.
By Muhammad Hamza Safi8 months ago in Writers
The Bookshop Between Us
In the middle of a narrow street lined with crooked houses and ivy-covered walls, there sat a small bookshop with no signboard. Locals simply called it “The Corner.” No one remembered when it opened. It had always been there, with its faded green door, brass bell, and windows full of old maps and forgotten stories.
By Muhammad Hamza Safi8 months ago in Humans
The Weight of an Empty Chair
There are chairs we never move. Even when the person who sat in them is long gone, even when the fabric starts to fade or the leg wobbles slightly, we keep them right where they are. As if some part of the one we lost is still anchored there, waiting.
By Muhammad Hamza Safi8 months ago in Psyche
The Clockmaker’s Granddaughter
Everyone in the town had forgotten about the clock shop. Tucked between a boarded-up tailor’s and a neon-lit fast food joint, it looked like something out of another century. Its wooden sign was faded, its glass door warped, and the chime above the entrance gave a sleepy, metallic sigh when pushed open.
By Muhammad Hamza Safi8 months ago in Psyche
The Girl Who Collected Silence
Ever since she was a child, Aalia collected silence. Not coins. Not dolls. Not seashells. Silence. She said it started when she was six, the first time she felt the hush of snow falling outside her window. No cars. No voices. Just the soft hush of winter breathing against the glass. “It felt like the world was pausing,” she once told me. “And in that pause, I found peace.”
By Muhammad Hamza Safi8 months ago in Humans
