Romance
"The Kingdom Without a Name". AI-Generated.
The Kingdom Without a Name: Lost to Time, Bound by Fate Chapter One: The Marked One The mist came every morning in Brinmere. It rolled over the hills like a living memory, ancient and restless. Villagers swore it was harmless—just weather—but they never strayed into it. Not past the old standing stones. Not east.
By Khazar khayam7 months ago in Chapters
Working Late
It’s 5:35 p.m., and Mikaela is at my desk wearing a smile that I can’t reciprocate, but I try. I can’t help it; it’s involuntary. She gives me hope. I have had a stressful day in the end. All my daydreaming eventually replaced by stacks of work. My groinal discomfort replaced by an irritable fidgeting caused by stress. But there’s camomile in her smile. She soothes the stress away with minimal effort, and now I’m in her debt. I fear I’m in so deep I’ll never get out of it.
By Simon George7 months ago in Chapters
Dating for Normies. Top Story - June 2025.
Mikaela, my incredibly beautiful boss, is staring at me. Mikaela is part Swedish and part English Rose, think Kate Beckinsale, but with Scandinavian blue eyes. She’s smiling in that way only she does. It’s disarming and entrancing, almost hypnotic. I’m drifting back into my daydream of the two of us together, kissing on a picnic blanket on top of the Ta’ Ċenċ Cliffs of Gozo Island, Malta. I saw an influencer couple share the same image on their Travelgram, and I’ve been dreaming of my own romantic sunset ever since. Whenever I’m around Mikaela, she makes me feel like it’s meant to be. We have a connection. I’m sure of it. I feel it in my bones. Even the way she’s smiling at me now feels personal like we’re sharing a secret that nobody else is in on. I know it’s a weird thing to say about your boss, but we’re the same age, and she’s not actually my boss. She’s just more senior than I am and is in charge of certain projects that I work on, so it’s not weird. Okay, it’s a little weird, but—Mikaela tilts her head like she’s waiting for me to respond to a question. I look around the room, and everyone is staring at me as if to confirm it.
By Simon George7 months ago in Chapters
Every Day Is Theirs: A Heart’s Tribute to Our Parents Beyond One Day
✍️ By: Umair Ali Shah Yousafzai --- 🌸 Introduction: The Problem with “One Day” In an age where love has been reduced to emojis and celebrations are confined to trending hashtags, it’s become common to see people dedicate just one day a year to their parents — usually in the form of a well-edited photo, a generic social media caption, or a short video clip. "Happy Parents’ Day!" they declare, and with that, consider their duty fulfilled. But can one day capture the essence of lifelong sacrifice? Can a Facebook status outweigh a mother’s sleepless nights? Can an Instagram reel compensate for a father’s decades of toil? The answer — spoken by the heart — is a resounding no. Parents are not a seasonal celebration. They are the soul of our lives. They do not deserve a day; they deserve our every day, our every breath, our every success, our every prayer. --- 🕊️ A Love Beyond Comprehension Parental love is not poetic — it is prophetic. The mother’s womb becomes a sanctuary before we even open our eyes. Her body breaks to give us life. Her nights shatter so our dreams can form. Her meals go cold so ours stay warm. She becomes our shadow, our comfort, our shield. And the father? He becomes the silent mountain who absorbs the storm before it reaches us. He ages behind the curtain so we can grow on stage. His shoes wear thin so ours stay new. His pockets empty so our dreams can fill. His hands become rough while ours remain soft. Such love cannot be compared. It cannot be counted, priced, or postponed. It is as eternal as the sky — silent but all-encompassing. --- 🏠 From Cradle to Grave: They Gave Us Everything The truth is simple and painful: the very people who gave us everything, we give them the least. They carried us when we were weak. They taught us to walk, to speak, to eat. They encouraged our smallest achievements and bore our greatest failures. They forgave our rebellion, our rudeness, our rejection. They kept loving even when we didn’t love back. And what did they ask for in return? Nothing — except a little time. A little respect. A little remembrance. And yet, many of us fail even in that. --- 📅 One Day is Not Enough — It’s Almost Insulting Designating one day for parents is, in many ways, an insult wrapped in sentimentality. It suggests that gratitude can be scheduled, that love can be timed, that sacrifice can be acknowledged only when it's convenient. Do parents love only once a year? Do they support us only on Sundays? Do they pray for us only during exam season? No. Their love is relentless, their loyalty unconditional, their prayers eternal. Then how dare we give them just a day? --- 🕯️ Real-Life Reflections: Forgotten Candles of Our Lives Visit an old age home and you will see forgotten candles flickering dimly, waiting for someone to relight their flames. Mothers who once carried their children now carry loneliness. Fathers who once stood tall now sit silently by windows, hoping someone might knock on the door. "I gave him everything," says one mother, staring into her fading memories. "And now he sends money, but not himself." What do we owe them? Not riches. Not luxury. We owe them presence. We owe them honor. We owe them time. And if we fail to pay that debt in life, we will spend the rest of our lives repaying it in guilt. --- 🌙 The Islamic Perspective: A Duty, Not a Favor In Islam, honoring one's parents is not optional. It is second only to worshipping Allah. The Qur’an places “being good to parents” immediately after “worship none but Allah” (Surah Al-Isra, 17:23). > “And lower to them the wing of humility out of mercy and say: ‘My Lord, have mercy upon them as they brought me up [when I was] small.’” — (Qur’an 17:24)
By Umair Ali Shah 7 months ago in Chapters
The lord's Silent Bride Part 2
The golden light of morning spilled gently through the open silk curtains, casting soft patterns across the polished floors of the castle dining hall. The clink of porcelain echoed faintly, delicate and refined, as breakfast was served in elegant lacquered dishes.
By Tsume's tales8 months ago in Chapters
