nawab sagar
Bio
hi im nawab sagar a versatile writer who enjoys exploring all kinds of topics. I don’t stick to one niche—I believe every subject has a story worth telling.
Stories (30)
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everything happens for a reason
People often say everything happens for a reason. Let's understand why. One day in a forest, a young man came to meet a wise saint. He was very sad and crying. The saint asked what happened. The young man said, "Everything I had is gone." Robbers stole everything. I have nothing left. Not even a way to go home. How can this be good? It's the worst thing ever. How can you say it's for the better? The saint replied, "Let me explain through a story," the saint began. Once a terrible flood hit a small village, washing away everything. A poor farmer's family lost even their little store of grain. The farmer's son said calmly, "It's okay, father. Let it go. Whatever happened happened for good." The farmer got angry and said, "Why are you saying such foolish things? Everything we had is gone. We don't even have food or shelter. He shouted at his son, "Go away. Leave me alone." The boy left in tears. But as evening came and the boy hadn't returned, the farmer felt regret. Suddenly, a rescue boat came and saved them. A villager said, "You scolded that boy for no reason. He was right. We got saved after all." But the farmer said, "How is this good? We still have no home, no food. What will we do now?" His wife said, "We may not have money, but don't lose hope. We'll manage somehow. I'll start working in nearby houses to earn a little. That will help us survive." The next day, the farmer went to the city to find work. He looked everywhere, but didn't get any work. He was worried. How would he take care of his family? They had no real house, just a small heart made from straw. One day, the farmer looked at his poor crops and felt even more hopeless. He said, "My son left home, too. I have lost everything." And people still say, "Whatever happens is for the best. How can this be good?" His wife consoled him. Don't worry so much. Try again. Things will get better. The Palmer agreed and went to search for work again. But again he found nothing. On the way back he met a saint. The saint asked him what was wrong. The farmer explained how the flood took everything. His house food and how life had become very hard. The saint said exactly that's why I'm saying what happened was good. The farmer got angry. How can you say that? I'm suffering. I have nothing. Even my son left me. The saint calmly said, "The answer to all your questions will come with time. Don't worry." That night, after the saint had spoken, the farmer sat quietly, thinking deeply about the words. He wondered if it could really be true that everything happens for a good reason. Later, the farmer got a job at a rich merchant's house. The merchant was kind and paid well. He even offered the farmer a house nearby to live in. One night, someone knocked at the farmer's door. When he opened it, he was shocked. It was his son. The son said, "You moved and didn't even tell me. I searched and found you here. I left that day and went to the city to find work. I got a small job first and then I saved enough to start a little tea stall. Slowly, I built a better life." The farmer was overjoyed. As his son spoke, he realized that even when everything seems wrong, life has a bigger plan, one that only time can reveal. The young man who was listening to this story said, "Okay, but in my case, everything was stolen. What good is in that?" The saint smiled and said, "Actually, I found something in the forest. Here, take this. It was a glowing stone." The young man realized it was a philosopher's stone, a magical stone that turns iron into gold. He said, "If my stuff hadn't been stolen, I wouldn't have come to the forest. I wouldn't have met you, and I wouldn't have found this treasure." So, friends, what did we learn from today's story? No matter how bad things get, time changes everything. Painful moments pass. Never make decisions in bad times that you'll regret later. Even the worst situations often lead to something better.
By nawab sagarabout 5 hours ago in Motivation
i loved a married man
My name is Daniela and I want to tell you my story. I live in a small town called Brighton Bay, not far from New York City. It's quiet here with calm streets, cozy cafes, and the sound of waves always nearby. I'm 29 years old and I work as a receptionist at a small hotel near the beach. Life was simple. Some might say boring, but I liked it. I had a few close friends, a small apartment, and a routine that felt safe. I wasn't looking for love. After a few bad relationships in the past, I told myself that it was better to stay alone. But sometimes life brings someone into your world when you least expect it. That person was Michael. Michael came to the hotel for a business trip. He looked different from the usual guests, calm, polite, and a little tired. He had soft eyes, a gentle smile, and a quiet way of speaking. When he asked for a room, I helped him check in, and he thanked me in a way that felt personal. I noticed the way he looked at me. Not in a bad way, just kind. I smiled back without even meaning to. The next morning, he came down to the lobby and asked for directions around town. I told him where to get the best coffee, where the beach was nice and quiet, and which seafood restaurant locals liked best. He listened to me carefully. Really listened and I liked that. Most people don't. After that, we started talking more. He stayed for 2 weeks. Every evening when his work was done, he would come to the lobby and we would chat. Some days we walked along the beach. Other times we sat on a bench near the lighthouse. We talked about life, books, music, dreams. He told me about the stress of his job in the city. I told him about my quiet life here. I felt comfortable with him. I felt seen. One night, we were walking by the water. The stars were out and the breeze was soft. He turned to me and said, "Being with you feels like peace." Those words stayed in my heart. I think I started falling for him that night. When his two weeks were over, he left Brighton Bay, but we kept in touch. Every day he sent me messages. Every night we talked on the phone. We laughed. We shared stories. And I missed him more than I thought I would. A month later, he came back. This time, he didn't stay at the hotel. He rented a small house near the harbor and asked me to visit. We made dinner together. We listened to music and danced in the kitchen. It felt like we had been together for a long time. I felt lucky. But then one evening, something changed. We were sitting on the couch drinking tea and he looked serious. He took a breath and said, "Danielella, I need to tell you something." I looked at him. My heart started to beat faster. "I'm married," he said, looking at the floor. "I have two children." My body froze. I couldn't speak. My hands felt cold. I looked away. I didn't mean to hide it. He said, "I didn't expect to meet you, but my marriage is not good. We live in the same house, but it's not love anymore." I stay for the children. That's all. His voice was low. He sounded sad, but I couldn't say anything. My thoughts were all over the place. I stood up and walked outside. The air was cold and I could hear the ocean waves. I felt like crying. He followed me out. "I understand if you don't want to see me again," he said. I nodded and walked home. That night, I couldn't sleep. My head was full of questions. Why didn't he tell me before? Why did this happen to me? But I also remembered the way he looked at me, the way he spoke, the way he made me feel safe. I was confused. I wanted to be angry, but I missed him. The next day, he sent me a message. I'm sorry, it said, but I miss you. I didn't reply. For days, I felt lost. I couldn't focus at work. I kept checking my phone. My heart and my mind were fighting. I told myself to forget him, but I couldn't. A week later, I saw him again. We met near the beach. I told him I felt hurt, that I didn't like being kept in the dark. He said he understood. He didn't try to excuse it. He only said, "I care about you." And then I stayed. I know it's wrong. I know many people will say I made a bad choice. I know I became the other woman. But at that time I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe this was temporary. That maybe one day he would leave his wife. That maybe he would choose me. So we continued in secret. He visited Brighton Bay once or twice a month. He stayed in that little house. I went there after work. We ate together. We talked. Sometimes we watched old movies or just sat in silence. It felt real, but also like a dream that could end any time. We never went out together. We never held hands in public. No photos, no dates, no future plans, just small moments in a quiet house. But in those moments, he made me feel special. He listened to me. He remembered the little things I said. He helped me cook, made me laugh, brought me books I mentioned once. He made me feel loved. Still deep inside I knew the truth. I was not his first choice. I was not part of his real life. I was something on the side, something easy without problems. And yet I didn't leave. Why? Because I loved how he made me feel. Because I believed him. Or maybe because I was afraid to be alone. Those quiet nights with him gave me something to hold on to. Even if it hurt, it was better than nothing. But slowly things started to change inside me. I stopped smiling the way I used to. I waited for his messages more than I should. I made my schedule around his visits. I said no to friends. I stayed home, always waiting for him to call. My world became smaller, just him and silence. Sometimes I stood on the beach and asked myself, "Is this love or am I just lost?" And I would tell myself, "Wait, maybe one day things will be different." But the questions didn't stop. They grew louder. The weeks passed and I stayed in that quiet world, waiting for Michael. I still loved him, but something inside me was changing. I started to feel tired, not just in my body, but in my heart. I was always waiting, waiting for a message, waiting for a visit, waiting for love that was only mine for a few hours at a time. Sometimes he came for a weekend. We stayed in the little house near the harbor. We talked, cooked, and held each other. But when he left, the house felt cold and empty. I looked around and saw only my things. He never left anything behind, no clothes, no photos, no sign that he had ever been there. It was like he lived two lives. And in one of them, I didn't exist. I tried to tell myself that love takes time. I believed he cared about me. Maybe he did. But he still went back to his wife, to his children, to the life where I did not belong. And I began to wonder, why do I let this happen? One night after he left, I sat by the window and watched the rainfall. I asked myself, "What am I doing with my life?" I loved someone who could not give me a full heart. I was always second. I had dreams, too. A home, a child, a man who would choose me every day. But instead, I had empty rooms and silent nights. I started to feel that I deserved more. But I was scared. I didn't want to lose him. I didn't want to feel lonely. Some part of me hoped he would change. That one day he would come to me and say, "I left. I'm here now." just for you. But that day never came. I spoke to my friend Nenah, the only one who knew the truth. I told her how I felt, tired, sad, confused. You deserve to be first, Dianiela. She said, "You should be with someone who's proud to love you, someone who walks with you in the daylight, not just hides with you in the dark." Her words stayed with me. I started to notice how much I had changed. I didn't laugh like I used to. I didn't go out. I always checked my phone. I had stopped doing things I loved. Reading by the sea, walking in the park, having dinner with friends. My world had become small, and I was the one who let it happen. One evening, Michael visited again. He smiled, brought flowers, kissed my forehead. He acted like everything was fine, but I was quiet. "What's wrong?" he asked. I don't know if I can keep doing this, I said. He looked surprised. Why now? Because I feel like I'm not living my own life, I said. I'm living in your shadow. I wait for your visits, your calls, your words, but I'm always waiting. I want more. I need more. He sat down and said nothing for a while. Then he said, "I love you, Dianiela. You know that. Then why don't you choose me?" I asked. He looked away. It's not that easy. I have children, a family. And what am I? I asked softly. just a secret. He didn't answer. That night, I cried again. Not because he was cruel. He wasn't. But because I finally saw the truth. He would never leave. Not for me. Not for anyone. After he left, I didn't message him. I didn't call. I needed time to think. I walked by the beach every morning before work. I let the wind touch my face. I watched the waves and thought about my life. What did I want? What made me happy? Slowly, I remembered the old me. The girl who loved long walks, coffee with friends, books by the fire. I missed her. I also thought about love. What does real love look like? Not just flowers and kisses, but someone who stands with you in the open. Someone who says, "You're mine." Without fear. I didn't have that. Not with Michael. I started writing in a notebook every night. Just thoughts and feelings. It helped me understand what I wanted. And every page I filled made me a little stronger. Michael still sent messages. I miss you. I'm thinking about you. Can I see you? But I didn't answer. Not right away. I needed time. One week later, he showed up at my door. I was surprised, but I let him in. I needed to see you, he said. You've been quiet. I've been thinking, I told him. He sat down. About us? Yes, I said about everything. We talked for a long time. I told him how I felt about waiting, about being second, about losing myself. I can't keep doing this. I said, "I love you. Maybe I always will, but I need a real life. I want to be with someone who can give me all of their heart, not just a part." He looked sad. I can't leave them, Dianiela. I've tried to imagine it. But I can't do that to my children. I nodded. I understood. But I also understood something else. This was the end. I hope you find peace, I said. I hope we both do. He stood up. He hugged me. I'm sorry, he whispered. Then he left. And that was the last time I saw him. That night, I cried again. But it felt different. The pain was real, but it was also clean, like a deep breath after holding it too long. The next morning, I walked down to the sea. I stood there for a long time just watching the waves. The sky was clear. The wind was soft. I felt something I hadn't felt in months. Calm. I knew healing would take time. But I also knew I had taken the first step. For the first time in a long time, I was not waiting for a message. I was not checking my phone. I was just standing there with myself and that was enough for now. Months passed after I said goodbye to Michael. At first, the days felt long and heavy. I missed him. I missed the way he smiled, the way he held me, the small things we used to share. Some mornings I wanted to call him. Some nights I cried in bed, holding my pillow close, remembering the sound of his voice. But slowly things began to change. I started spending more time with my friends again. Nah invited me for coffee every weekend. We talked and laughed. Sometimes we sat in silence, just enjoying each other's company. It felt good to be around people who loved me for me with no secrets, no lies. I also returned to the things I once enjoyed. I began reading again soft stories, quiet ones about love and hope. I walked on the beach every evening. I watched the sunset and listened to the sound of the waves. The sea always made me feel calm. It reminded me that life moves forward no matter what happens. I also started working on my goals. I took a small class at the community center. Something simple about writing stories. I didn't tell many people about it. I just wanted to try something for myself. Each week, I wrote a few pages about my thoughts and dreams. It felt good to write. It helped me heal. One evening after class, I was walking home when I stopped by a bookstore near the corner. I hadn't been there in a long time. Inside, I saw a man looking at travel books. He smiled when he saw me, and I smiled back. He looked familiar, but I couldn't remember where I had seen him before. He walked over and said, "Hi, you're in the writing class, right?" I nodded. "Yes, I am. I just joined last week." He said, "I'm David. We talked for a few minutes about the class, about books, about the cold weather. It was nothing special, but something about his voice made me feel at ease. The next week, he sat near me in class. After class, we walked together to the cafe across the street. We talked about simple things, family, work, favorite food. He was kind. He listened. And when I spoke, he looked into my eyes. I didn't feel nervous. I felt calm. We started meeting after class more often. Sometimes for coffee, sometimes just a short walk. He didn't ask me about my past. He didn't push. He was patient. One evening we sat near the beach on a wooden bench. The sky was orange and the air was cool. I looked at him and said, "Can I tell you something?" "Of course," he said. I was in a relationship before. It wasn't good. He was married. I waited for him for a long time. I loved him, but I was always second. I don't want that kind of love again. He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "Thank you for telling me. I think you're brave and you deserve better." That night, I went home with a warm feeling in my chest. Not because I was falling in love, but because I felt understood. Weeks turned into months. David and I spent more time together. We went for walks, watched movies, and talked about our dreams. He never rushed me. He never asked for more than I could give. I started to smile more. I laughed without pain. I felt free. One day, I looked in the mirror and saw something I hadn't seen in a long time. Myself. Not the sad girl who waited for messages. Not the woman who cried alone at night, but Dianiela, strong, gentle, and alive. David became a part of my life slowly, like the sun rising after a long night. He didn't try to fix me. He just stood beside me. And in his quiet way, he showed me what real love can look like. One evening, we were sitting in the park watching children play. "Do you ever want a family?" I asked. Yes, he said one day with the right person. I smiled. Me, too. We didn't need to say more. I knew now that love doesn't have to hurt. It doesn't have to be hidden or painful. Love should feel safe. It should feel like coming home. Looking back, I don't regret my past. It taught me important lessons. I learned that love without respect is not enough. That waiting for someone who cannot choose you will only bring pain. That no one else can give you peace. You have to find it inside yourself. And now I have peace. I have hope. I have love not from someone who hides me but from someone who walks beside me. If someone asked me today, "Was it worth it?" I would say yes. Because through all the sadness, I found myself. And in finding myself, I open the door to a new kind of love, a better one, one I truly deserve. curve.
By nawab sagarabout a month ago in Confessions
The Light Beneath the Door
“Rachel?” Michael’s voice called gently from the kitchen doorway. She didn’t respond at first. She was standing in the hallway, her hand hovering just inches from the doorknob of the room that used to be bright yellow and full of baby animals. Now it was dim, quiet, untouched for months.
By nawab sagar6 months ago in Families
Ripples, Rain clouds, and the Language of Touch
Gregory Stock’s The Book of Questions Prompt — Do you feel you have much impact on the lives of people you come in contact with? Can you think of someone who, over a short period of time, significantly influenced your life?
By nawab sagar6 months ago in Poets
The Second First Time
It had been years since I stepped into the ocean. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I was afraid. Somewhere between growing older and growing cautious, I’d convinced myself that salt water had become foreign to my skin. I told myself it wasn’t the same, that I wasn’t the same.
By nawab sagar6 months ago in Poets
When Your Mind Says No
Let’s be real—studying when you feel tired or lazy is one of the hardest things in the world. Your books are open, but your brain’s closed. You feel guilty, frustrated, and stuck. And yet, you know you want to succeed. You want to show up for yourself. You want to grow.
By nawab sagar6 months ago in Motivation
The Harsh Truth of Life
There comes a time in every person’s life when the world no longer feels like a promise, but a test. That moment creeps in quietly—through heartbreak, disappointment, a late-night breakdown, or a stretch of silence that screams louder than words. It’s in those moments that we begin to understand something that no school, no childhood dream, and no textbook ever truly prepared us for: life isn’t fair. And it was never supposed to be.
By nawab sagar6 months ago in Motivation
