• English - Fiction - Romance

    Offline is the New Love

    July 5, 2025 - By 

    Tania Mattu Part 1: The DM That Didn’t Send Aarav Kapoor stared at the blinking cursor on his screen, his thumb hovering above the send button. The message read: “Hey, you seemed really cool at the open mic. Want to grab coffee sometime?” But he didn’t press send. Instead, he backspaced all the way to blank and tossed his phone onto the bed. He exhaled loudly. “What am I doing?” He had met Zoya exactly three nights ago at a chaotic open mic night in Bandra. She wasn’t performing; she was in the corner, sketching people with a black ink…

  • English - Fiction

    Dilli 6.5

    June 24, 2025 - By 

    Ankur Kaur Part 1: The Bag That Wouldn’t Leave The morning sun rose over Old Delhi with the usual chorus of honks, hawkers, and the sizzle of parathas on the tawa. In a narrow bylane of Chawri Bazaar, where every house shared its secrets through the cracks in their walls, the Khurana family was preparing for an exodus. Not the biblical kind. More like the modern middle-class one—from chaos to “development,” from pigeons to peacocks, from Dilli 6 to Gurgaon. Mrs. Saroj Khurana stood in the middle of the living room, hands on hips, commanding like a general. “Harpreet! Don’t…

  • English - Romance

    Twenty-One Winters Later

    June 22, 2025 - By 

    Payel Sen The Return to the Hills The chill in the Darjeeling air always brought back memories for Atanu. As the toy train screeched into Ghum station, the soft drizzle on the windowpane blurred the world outside. He was forty-two now, with streaks of grey in his once-black hair and lines around his eyes that time had carved silently. A literature professor from Kolkata, he had returned to Darjeeling after two decades for a seminar. But deep inside, he knew it wasn’t just the seminar that drew him here. It was a name he hadn’t spoken aloud in years. Maya.…

  • English - Romance

    The Moon Between Us

    June 21, 2025 - By 

    Rishiraj Dubey 1 It began on a train. The Mumbai local was packed, as always—bodies pressed close, the smell of iron and monsoon sweat thick in the air. Somewhere, a vendor shouted about samosas. A mother hushed her crying child. I had wedged myself into a corner seat near the window, one earbud in, the other dangling, as the city buzzed around me, uncaring and loud. And then, at Dadar, she boarded. White kurta, blue scarf, a jhola bag slung over one shoulder. Her hair was still damp from a rushed morning bath. She moved through the crowd like someone…