fact or fiction

Is it a fact or is it merely fiction? Fact or Fiction explores relationship myths and truths to get your head out of the clouds and back into romantic reality.

The Goodbye I Never Said Out Loud. Content Warning.
I think of you often. The life you should have lived. Who you would have become. But didn't. We looked alike - back then. I was younger.
By Elizabeth Woods6 months ago in Humans
Under the Mango Tree of Manipur
The hills of Manipur used to breathe quietly — valleys wrapped in green, bamboo groves swaying with the wind, and tribal homes scattered like beads across the landscape. But since May 2023, that peace has been shattered.
By Shehzad Anjum6 months ago in Humans
Chains of the Brothel: Part 1 Anita’s Silent Fall
In 1969, in a small, quiet village in Bengal, a child named Anita Das was born. The village was a place of stillness—narrow dusty lanes where children’s laughter echoed, fields that stretched endlessly in a green embrace, and evenings where the horizon glowed golden as the sun slipped away. Anita grew up with the innocence of the village stitched into her soul.
By Shehzad Anjum6 months ago in Humans
Chains of the Brothel: Part 2 — The Price of 2200 Rupees
The year was 1990. Anita had been married only two years when her world began to collapse. She had once believed marriage was a doorway into love and safety. Amit Mishra had wooed her with promises — sweet words whispered in the quiet of evening, vows of forever, dreams of building a family together. Anita believed him. She gave him her trust, her loyalty, her heart.
By Shehzad Anjum6 months ago in Humans
“The Night That Turned Into a New Beginning”
The night was supposed to be ordinary. Nothing more than the usual routine of walking home after a long, exhausting day. The streets were quiet, the kind of silence that feels heavier than noise. I remember feeling trapped inside my own head, weighed down by regrets and unfulfilled dreams. My life had fallen into a cycle: work, eat, sleep, repeat. It wasn’t living—it was just surviving.
By Umar Farooq6 months ago in Humans
He Reported on Hunger. Then He Lived It
He Reported on Hunger. Then He Lived It I used to believe that journalism was a form of survival. If I could tell the story well enough, someone would listen. Someone would act. Someone would save a life.
By Shehzad Anjum6 months ago in Humans
New to Islam, New to Ramadan
If you had asked me two years ago where I’d be today, I probably would’ve laughed. Back then, I was the girl with tattoos climbing up my arms, a tiny crescent inked under my eye, and a spirit that wore rebellion like armor. Religion? That was for other people. Not for someone like me—too messy, too scarred, too far gone.
By Shehzad Anjum6 months ago in Humans
A Moon That Found Me
I remember the night vividly—the crescent moon rising softly above the rooftops, its delicate curve glowing against the deep night sky. That small silver light carried a message bigger than itself: Ramadan was over. Eid had arrived.
By Shehzad Anjum6 months ago in Humans
The Last Library of Humanity
M Mehran Eli walked slowly through the ruins of the city, the wind carrying with it the faint smell of dust and forgotten fire. His boots crunched against shards of glass that had once been windows to tall buildings. The world, he thought, had grown quieter than it ever should have been.
By Muhammad Mehran6 months ago in Humans
Coming of Age
Many, many moons ago, the human body would develop the wisdom tooth as a way of compensating for the wear and tear owing to the rough diet. At the time, the provision was necessary to help aid the overworking molars and premolars to ensure the rest of the body still enjoyed both the pleasure and the benefit of chomping on raw meat and barely ripe fruit, or whatever it is our ancestors nourished their bodies with. As nature always decides, the teeth would cave and crown, almost like an infant at the ninth month (or whenever it’s ready to make its grand arrival, really), when the time was right. When the good old ones had held the fort for as long as they could and chewed on bones fingers couldn’t count and memories made turned so faint stories about them were no longer being told. Their arrival was just in time for the shift change, when the little boys were becoming men and little girls were coming of age.
By Thandoe Clio6 months ago in Humans
Chains of the Brothel – Part 3 The Cruelty of the Police, the Trap of Rehab
The wealthy man’s words hung in the air like venom: “What about the child—does he have a price too?” Anita froze. Her veins turned to ice. Aryan, barely four years old, clung to her dress, his small chest rattling with a cough. For a moment, the world stopped spinning. She tightened her arms around him, as if her fragile embrace could shield him from the darkness creeping closer.
By Shehzad Anjum6 months ago in Humans
Chains of the Brothel : Part 4 —Ruin & Rebirth
A Mother’s Anchor Time moved like slow poison. Day after day, Anita sat within the suffocating walls of the brothel, her body scarred, her soul weary. She had lost her youth, her dreams, her dignity—everything. Yet through every storm, one fragile hope kept her alive: her son, Aryan.
By Shehzad Anjum6 months ago in Humans