Whispers of the Journey: Love, Truth and a Misunderstanding that Changed Everything

 

“Whispers of the Journey”

The cold winds made the streets of Toronto even harsher. The warm glow spilling out of the bakery’s windows cut through the dark night. Inside, Zoboriya and Ehsaan sat holding mugs of coffee.

Ehsaan spoke softly—

"Zoboriya, if Abuzarr comes here, we need to be prepared. I don’t want your past to overpower your present."

Zoboriya looked into his eyes. The fear in her heart still lingered, but Ehsaan’s words gave her comfort.

"But Ehsaan… what if Abuzarr doesn’t just come with complaints… what if he comes carrying an incomplete love? Will you still stand as strong then?"

Ehsaan answered without hesitation—

"Zoboriya, love can never be completed by force. And where there is trust… no third person can break a bond."

Tears welled up in Zoboriya’s eyes. It felt as though the heaviest stone had been lifted from her heart.

“Abuzarr’s Flight”

On the other side of the world, Abuzarr stood by an airport window, watching the snowfall. In his hands was a ticket—“Toronto.”

His heart was restless. He wondered if, after all these years, Zoboriya would even recognize him… or if another story had already been written in her eyes.

He whispered to himself—

"Zoboriya, I never forgot you… Now let’s see what the end of this journey will be."

“Adeeba’s Confusion”

Meanwhile, Adeeba’s nights were restless too. A strange love for Ehsaan had begun to grow in her heart— but she knew Zoboriya was already a part of his world.

Standing before the mirror, she spoke to herself—

"Am I making the same mistake again? Am I falling for someone whose heart may never be mine?"

But her eyes betrayed the truth. She knew her fate had now become entangled with this story.

“The Upcoming Clash”

One cold evening, Zoboriya and Ehsaan were closing the bakery. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

Both startled, they turned to look. The door creaked open… and there stood Abuzarr. His eyes were the same—restless, burning, full of unanswered questions.

From Zoboriya’s trembling lips came only one name—

"Abuzarr…"

Silence filled the room. Ehsaan and Abuzarr locked eyes— and in that instant, both knew the story was about to change.

“The First Confrontation”

The small bakery suddenly felt heavy. The cold air that swept in through the door mixed with Abuzarr’s presence, filling the space with an unbearable weight.

Zoboriya’s throat went dry, her heartbeat racing— as if past and present had collided.

Ehsaan quickly glanced at Zoboriya, then fixed his gaze on Abuzarr. His eyes steady, but questions hiding beneath.

Abuzarr stepped inside. His voice was heavy, yet broken—

"Zoboriya… even after all these years, you’re still the same. But why do your eyes now hold a different story?"

Zoboriya tried to speak, but Ehsaan stepped forward. His voice was firm, yet clear—

"Abuzarr, this bakery isn’t just Zoboriya’s… it’s her place of peace. If you’ve come here, don’t bring the burden of old grievances."

Abuzarr gave a bitter smile.

"So, you must be Ehsaan… the reason my life was left incomplete?"

Ehsaan replied directly—

"No. Your life remained incomplete because you treated love as a cage. Love survives on trust, not force."

Tears spilled from Zoboriya’s eyes. She stepped between them.

"Stop it! This fight isn’t about you two… it’s about my heart. Abuzarr, you were my past… and Ehsaan is my present. And I don’t want to lose my present."

The room fell silent. Abuzarr’s lips quivered, but no words came out. His eyes glistened—as if, for the first time, he had accepted the truth.

“Cries of Broken Moments”

Abuzarr’s grip was tight, his eyes burning with a mix of passion and pain.

"Zoboriya, you once told me your love would end with me… then why today do you call Ehsaan your present? What happened to my love, Zoboriya? Answer me!"

His voice echoed against the bakery’s walls. Ehsaan stood behind, his face tense, but he stayed silent. This battle belonged to Zoboriya’s heart.

With trembling hands, Zoboriya pulled his grip away from her shoulders. Her eyes brimmed with tears, but her voice was firm—

"Abuzarr, don’t ask me these questions… ask yourself. Who betrayed love? Me… or you? Because even then, my heart was yours—when you failed to protect it."

Abuzarr’s lips shook.

"Zoboriya, you’re still trapped in a misunderstanding… I never left you. You were, are, and will always be my life. But this Ehsaan…"—he pointed—"he came between us."

Ehsaan stepped forward, placing a steady hand on Abuzarr’s shoulder. His voice was low, but unyielding—

"Abuzarr, love isn’t something that can be snatched away. If your love had been true, you wouldn’t be asking these questions today. Zoboriya has chosen her path—and I am with her."

Wiping her tears, Zoboriya said—

"Abuzarr, I don’t want to erase you… but I cannot live with you either. Because my love sought peace… and I found that peace in Ehsaan’s heart."

The bakery grew colder. Abuzarr’s eyes filled with tears— his anger crumbling into heartbreak.

“The Explosion of Truth”

Tears streamed down Zoboriya’s face. Her voice cracked, yet rang clear—

"It was Ehsaan’s story that gave me a new courage to live… otherwise, I had already broken long ago. And Abuzarr… why have you come to me now? Go back to your wife and your child. I have no right to shatter someone else’s happy home."

It was as if a bomb had gone off in the room. Ehsaan’s breath caught in his chest. And Abuzarr… his face froze in utter shock.

"What…? Zoboriya, what are you saying? My wife? My child? Where did all this come from?"

His voice trembled, filled more with pain than anger.

Zoboriya’s palms grew cold. She cried out—

"Don’t lie, Abuzarr! Years ago, when I came to your house to see you… I myself heard you. You had put the call on speaker— you were talking to your wife, asking about your child!"

She spoke the truth through her tears.

Abuzarr staggered, clutching his chest with trembling hands.

"Zoboriya… So that was the day… That’s why you left without meeting me?

Ya Allah… you were trapped in such a terrible misunderstanding."

He buried his face in his hands, regret pouring from him.

"If only… if only you had come to me once… to hear the truth behind that call.

Zoboriya… my life’s every love, every hope, every dream… was you. And when you left me… I was destroyed."

Zoboriya’s eyes widened, her feet frozen to the floor.

Ehsaan silently watched them both—confusion and unease clouding his gaze.

And in the air hung a question heavy as stone:

Was Abuzarr finally telling the truth… or was this yet another deception in the name of love?

 What could happen next in this story? (Future Plot Hint)

In the coming parts, this may happen:

• Abuzarr will turn out not to be married — the call was about a relative’s wife and child.

• Zoboriya will realize that she made a hasty decision in the past.

• Ehsaan will try to step back so the full truth can come forward.

• Adeeba’s jealousy will slowly transform into guilt.

In the end:

👉 Zoboriya will choose truth, but she will not lose her peace.

(The story will move toward healing, not revenge.)

 What lesson do we learn from this story? (Moral / Lesson)

Lesson:

• Hasty decisions in love can break relationships.

• Truth is revealed through conversation, not silence.

• True love brings peace, not imprisonment.

• Trust is the strongest foundation of any bond.

Short moral line:

“Silence breaks hearts, but honest conversation can heal them.”

 NEXT SHORT PART – Ready to Post

“The Night After the Truth”

The bakery door had been closed.

Outside, the snow was still falling, but the silence inside felt even heavier.

Zoboriya stood near the counter, her hands trembling.

Ehsaan stood quietly by the window, looking out into the dark night.

Abuzarr was still there — broken, yet calm.

Finally, Zoboriya spoke softly,

“Abuzarr… if the truth is something else, then tell me.

My heart needs truth, not pity.”

Ehsaan turned and said,

“Zoboriya, we will not rush any decision.

First the truth… then the path.”

Abuzarr took a deep breath, his eyes red with tears.

“If only you had listened to me once…

this night would not feel so cold.”

At that moment, thunder roared outside.

The story was not ending here…

it was only beginning.

 Thank You Message for Readers (Ready to Post)
Dear readers,

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for feeling this story and walking along this journey with me.

Your emotions, patience, and love keep this tale alive.

Whispers of the Journey is not just a story —

it is a reminder of trust, truth, and inner peace.

Stay connected, because not every truth brings pain —

sometimes, the same truth sets us free.

With love and prayers,

Afsana Wahid

All images used on this website are either AI-generated or used for illustrative purposes only.

https://afsanawahidwrites.blogspot.com/2026/01/dr-bakhsh-maryam-kandeel-love-story.html

How to Write a Powerful Story Step by Step

 

How to Write a Story (Step-by-Step Guide)

Writing a story is not just about joining words together; it is about weaving emotions, experiences, imagination, and truth into a world where the reader can get lost. A good story is one that touches the heart and makes the reader think.

1) Choose an Idea First

Every story begins with an idea. This idea can come from anywhere:

your own life

a film or book

a real event

a dream

a relationship

For example:

a broken friendship

first love

trust and betrayal

loneliness

family struggle

First decide:

What is my story about?

For example: My story will be about true friendship and trust.

2) Create Main Characters

Characters are the soul of a story. Choose at least two or three main characters, such as:

Zoboriya – calm and sensitive

Ehsan – wise and trustworthy

Abuzar – a person from the past

Think about:

How do they speak?

How do they feel?

What do they fear?

What do they want?

The more alive your characters feel, the stronger your story will be.

3) Decide the Setting

Choose where your story takes place:

in a bakery

in a city

in a village

in a school

in another country

You can use atmosphere like:

cold weather, falling snow, night lights, quiet streets —

this makes your story more beautiful and immersive.

4) Write a Strong Opening Scene

The beginning of your story is very important. It should pull the reader in immediately.

Example:

“The morning cold had frozen the bakery windows. Zoboriya was cleaning the counter, but her mind was elsewhere.”

Such an opening makes the reader want to continue.

5) Add Conflict

Without conflict, a story feels flat. You must create a problem, such as:

Abuzar returning

Zoboriya feeling afraid

Ehsan feeling confused

Conflict keeps the story interesting.

6) Use Dialogue

Dialogue brings characters to life.

Example:

Zoboriya whispered, “Ehsan, I must tell you the truth.”

Ehsan replied, “Tell me, I am listening.”

Through dialogue, readers feel the emotions of the characters.

7) Show Emotions, Don’t Just Tell

Do not simply write that a character is sad. Show their sadness.

Wrong:

“Zoboriya was very sad.”

Right:

“Tears filled Zoboriya’s eyes and her voice began to tremble.”

This makes the reader feel the emotion.

8) Move the Story Slowly

Do not rush the story. Give time to each scene:

first the message arrives

then fear grows

then the truth comes out

then trust is rebuilt

This strengthens your plot.

9) Add a Twist

A good story has a twist, such as:

Abuzar coming not just to meet but to reveal a truth

Ehsan discovering a hidden secret

Zoboriya’s past being deeper than expected

This surprises the reader.

10) Write a Meaningful Ending

The ending should stay in the reader’s mind.

Example:

“The cold wind blew through the room, but the warmth of trust remained between them.”

Or:

“Abuzar stood at the door, and the real storm was just beginning.”

11) Include a Moral

Every story should teach something:

Truth is necessary

Trust is the foundation of relationships

The past shapes us but does not control us

12) Practice Every Day

Write a little every day:

200 words

300 words

500 words

Gradually, your writing will improve.

In short — the rules of story writing:

Choose a good idea • Create strong characters • Build a vivid setting •

Write a powerful beginning • Add conflict • Use dialogue • Show emotions •

Develop the plot slowly • Include a twist • End memorably

All images used on this website are either AI-generated or used for illustrative purposes only.

“Cracks and Distance: A Story of Trust, Friendship, and a Past That Returns”

 

“Cracks and Distance” — (Rewritten, closer tone)

The next morning, a thin layer of frost rested against the bakery windows like silent breath.

Zoboriya moved slowly behind the counter, wiping it again and again, as if her thoughts were scattered like crumbs she couldn’t gather. The warmth of the previous night still lingered in Ehsan’s expression — calm, gentle, almost tender.

Yet the peace felt fragile.

Abuzar’s presence, though unseen, hovered like a restless shadow in the air between them.

Then Ehsan’s phone buzzed. A message appeared from an unknown account:

“If you truly call Zoboriya your friend, then don’t hide her from me.

She is still part of my story too.”

Ehsan’s jaw tightened. He didn’t need a name — the voice was unmistakable. It was Abuzar.

Without replying, he deleted the message, exhaled slowly, and whispered under his breath,

“No… I won’t let Zoboriya’s past break her again.”

“Adiba’s Truth” — (Closer & softer)

That evening, Adiba returned to the bakery.

But her smile was gone.

Her voice trembled slightly when she said,

“Ehsan bhai… can I trust you with something painful?”

Ehsan studied her face carefully. Fatigue lived in her eyes.

She continued in a quiet, broken tone:

“After Arslan’s accident… my engagement shattered too.

The man I was meant to marry said I had become a burden.

Since that day, I have been afraid to believe in anyone.

But watching your friendship with Zoboriya… for the first time, I felt that honesty in relationships might still exist.”

Ehsan listened without interrupting. His voice was calm but certain:

“Adiba, trust is a person’s greatest strength.

Anyone who breaks it never deserved you in the first place.”

Tears shimmered in her eyes.

From a distance, Zoboriya watched them — and a quiet ache settled deeper into her heart.

“Abuzar’s Search” — (More intense)

Meanwhile, Abuzar grew more restless with each passing hour.

He messaged his friends:

“I have to find Zoboriya. No matter what it takes.”

One night, a reply arrived:

“We saw a bakery tagged in Toronto with her name.

It might be her.”

His pulse quickened.

“Canada… I knew it,” he muttered.

From that moment on, only one thought consumed him:

“I will not rest until I see her with my own eyes.”

“The Hint of Conflict” — (More emotional)

Winter filled the bakery with life — laughter, coffee, warmth, and light.

Yet sometimes, Zoboriya’s face drifted into silence.

She wondered:

Will Adiba bring Ehsan closer to me… or pull him away?

One evening, Ehsan asked gently,

“Zoboriya… why have you become so quiet? Do you feel I’m ignoring you?”

Her voice was barely above a whisper:

“Maybe… yes. Sometimes it feels like I’m just a habit to you. And habits… people eventually leave behind.”

Ehsan held her hand firmly.

“No, Zoboriya. You are not a habit.

You are like snow — soft, rare, and life-changing.

No one can replace you.”

Her eyes glistened.

At that moment, her phone lit up. A message from Abuzar appeared:

“Zoboriya, I am coming to Canada.

I need to see with my own eyes that you are truly okay.”

Her face drained of color.

“The Beginning of the Coming Storm” — (Closer tension)

She quickly hid her phone.

Ehsan noticed.

“Is everything alright?”

She forced a smile and nodded —

but inside her, a storm had begun.

Because Abuzar was not just her past…

he was her deepest vulnerability.

If he arrived in Canada, both her and Ehsan’s world could tremble.

“The Burden of Truth” — (More intimate confession)

Zoboriya sat alone, staring at nothing, her heart unbearably heavy.

Ehsan sat nearby, uneasy, watching her silence.

Finally, she whispered, voice shaking,

“Ehsan… I must tell you something today. I can’t carry this anymore.”

His chest tightened.

“What truth, Zoboriya?”

Tears spilled before her words:

“Abuzar’s arrival here… isn’t random.

He is not just my past — he is a part of my life I’ve always hidden.”

Ehsan held her hand gently.

“Tell me clearly. Don’t hide anymore.”

She cried openly:

“Ehsan… Abuzar once saved my life.

If he hadn’t come that day, I might not even be alive today.

His place in my past is not ordinary — it is tied to my very breath.”

Silence filled the room.

Ehsan didn’t blame her. Instead, he wiped her tears and said softly,

“The truth may come late… but it heals.

Your past is not my enemy — it is part of you. And I accept all of you.”

She clung to his hand, finally feeling lighter.

“The Confession of Fear” — (Deeper bond)

Cold wind slipped through the window as they sat in silence.

Zoboriya whispered,

“Do you remember… I once told you about Abuzar?”

“Yes,” Ehsan replied quietly.

She twisted her fingers nervously.

“What I didn’t tell you… is that he knows I’m in Canada.”

Ehsan’s voice grew serious.

“Knows everything?”

She nodded slowly.

“And… he is coming here.”

Shock crossed his face.

“To meet you?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “And I wanted you to hear this from me first.”

He stared at her for a long moment.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Tears filled her eyes.

“I was afraid you might misunderstand me.

But now… I can’t stay silent anymore.”

The silence between them felt heavier than any storm.

“The Bond of Trust” — (Warmer, closer)

Ehsan already knew who Abuzar was — Zoboriya had told him long ago.

But he didn’t know Abuzar had found her in Canada.

When she finally admitted it, he said gently,

“Listen to me, Zoboriya — you are not alone.

If he comes, we will face him together.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks — this time, from relief.

“The Beauty of Friendship” — (More heartfelt)

With a soft smile, she said,

“Telling you the truth hurt… but hiding it hurt even more.”

Ehsan replied warmly,

“Truth must be spoken, otherwise it breaks a person from inside.”

She laughed lightly, wiping her tears.

“You act like you’re my judge sometimes.”

He smiled.

“Maybe I’m your mirror — even if the reflection hurts.”

She shook her head.

“No. A true friend speaks even uncomfortable truths with love.”

Ehsan nodded, eyes gentle.

“May our bond always stay this strong.”

She replied softly,

“Misunderstandings only grow where understanding stops —

and our friendship understands even silence.”

They sat quietly together, the cold air drifting in, hearts connected by something deeper than words —

a friendship unbroken, fragile yet unshakable.

(Future Plot – Reader Hook)

In the coming parts:

Abuzar will finally reach Canada.

His first meeting with Zoboriya will be emotional and tense.

Ehsan may feel insecure for the first time in their friendship.

Adiba’s presence may unintentionally deepen the distance between Ehsan and Zoboriya.

Zoboriya will have to choose between silence and confrontation.

A misunderstanding may shake their bond — but truth will ultimately bring them closer.

✅  (Moral / Lesson)

This story teaches that:

Truth is painful but necessary.

Real friendship survives honesty, not secrets.

The past shapes us, but it does not have to control us.

Trust is stronger than fear.

Silence can hurt more than words.

✅  Next Short Part 

“The First Sign of the Storm”

That night, Zoboriya could not sleep. The sound of wind felt like footsteps from her past.

Her phone lay on the table — silent, yet heavy with Abuzar’s message.

Meanwhile, Ehsan stood by the bakery window, staring at the empty street. He felt something changing between them, though he could not name it.

At dawn, a new notification appeared on Zoboriya’s screen:

“I’ve landed in Toronto.”

Her breath stopped.

The storm had arrived.

✅  (Thank You Note)

Dear readers, thank you for walking with Zoboriya and Ehsan through their journey of trust, pain, and friendship. Your love keeps this story alive. Stay with them as the past returns and the truth unfolds — because the real test of their bond is only just beginning. More chapters coming soon!

https://afsanawahidwrites.blogspot.com/2026/01/kandil-exposes-doctor-sameer-truth-story.html

All images used on this website are either AI-generated or used for illustrative purposes only.

“Some Friends Are Like Snow: A Winter Love Story of Silence, Respect, and Healing”

 

Story Continues…

A few days slipped by quietly.

Winter was loosening its grip on the city,

though patches of snow still clung stubbornly to the streets—

as if unwilling to let go.

New faces continued to enter the bakery every day.

Some came for hot chocolate,

some just to rest their tired souls for a moment.

But Ehsan knew—

the bakery was no longer just a workplace for him.

It had become the corner of the world

where his broken silences were slowly learning

how to turn back into words.

One evening, just as the shop was about to close,

the door opened softly.

A girl stepped inside.

She was wrapped in a deep blue shawl,

her eyes restless, as if searching for something she had lost.

She walked up to the counter and asked gently,

“Is Ehsan Arif here?”

Zoboriya looked up, surprised for a moment—

then offered a warm smile.

“Yes. Please have a seat. I’ll call him.”

Ehsan came out from the back.

The moment his eyes met hers,

he froze.

“You…?”

The girl smiled faintly.

“You don’t know me.

But I know you.

My brother spoke about you a lot—

about your photographs.

His name was Arslan.”

Ehsan’s hands began to tremble.

Arslan.

A name he had never truly been able to forget.

A friend from years ago—

taken away by a cruel accident.

And now…

his sister stood right in front of him.

Zoboriya felt the sudden heaviness settle in the air.

Without a word, she stepped aside,

giving them space.

The girl spoke softly,

“Arslan used to write in his diary that

his favorite photographs were the ones you took.

I…

I just want to see them.

Do you still have them?”

Tears welled up in Ehsan’s eyes.

He nodded slowly.

“Yes…

I still have them.”

The next morning,

Ehsan opened an old wooden box—

one he hadn’t touched in years.

Inside lay the photographs.

Arslan’s laughter.

His mischief.

His innocent joy while playing in the snow.

Moments preserved forever on paper.

The girl held the photographs in her trembling hands.

Tears streamed down her face,

yet a soft smile refused to leave her lips.

“You have no idea what this means to me,” she whispered.

“You brought him back to life for me.”

From that day on,

the girl—Adeeba—

began visiting the bakery often.

She would sit quietly with her coffee,

sometimes sharing small stories about her brother.

Zoboriya watched all of this from a distance.

She saw how slowly—

almost cautiously—

people, stories, and emotions

were returning to Ehsan.

But deep inside her heart,

a quiet fear stirred.

Would Adeeba’s presence take away

the place I’ve carved in Ehsan’s life all these years?

One evening, the bakery was unusually crowded.

Zoboriya managed the counter,

while Ehsan and Adeeba sat by the window, laughing together.

From afar, Zoboriya watched them.

Their laughter.

Their ease.

The comfort between them.

Everything looked so natural.

A sharp pang pierced her heart.

Perhaps… she thought,

I’m no longer needed.

But that night, after the shop had closed,

Ehsan approached her,

a tray in his hands—

two cups of steaming coffee.

“For you,” he said softly,

“and only you.”

Zoboriya looked at him, startled.

“But… Adeeba?”

Ehsan’s voice was calm, certain.

“Adeeba is my friend’s memory.

And you…

You are the habit of my life.

Both have their own place, Zoboriya.

No one can replace the other.”

Light returned to Zoboriya’s eyes.

She lifted her cup and smiled.

“Then, to our friendship—

the kind that stays warm

even in the coldest winters.”

Their cups clinked gently.

And outside the window,

snow began to fall again—

softly,

as if a new story was quietly being written.

That night, despite the warmth inside the room,

Ehsan couldn’t sleep.

He scrolled endlessly on his phone

until he opened Instagram.

His inbox was flooded with messages.

Most of them were from AbuZarr.

Every message carried the same desperation:

“Ehsan, for God’s sake, tell me where Zoboriya is…”

“What’s your relationship with her?”

“Is she alright? Just give me a sign…”

Ehsan inhaled deeply.

His fingers hovered over the screen for a long time.

Finally, he typed:

“Zoboriya is my dearest and closest friend.

But I can’t tell you where she is—

because she made me promise never to reveal it.

Her dignity means more to me

than anything else.”

When he pressed send,

a small weight lifted from his chest.

Yet an uneasy restlessness remained.

He knew that hiding Zoboriya from the world

also meant hiding her past.

And maybe—

right now—

hiding was necessary.

He placed the phone aside and looked out the window.

Snow was falling quietly.

A faint smile touched his lips.

He opened his camera gallery

and stopped at a picture from last week.

Zoboriya stood with her back to the lens,

snow resting on her shoulders,

while he laughed, tossing snow into the air.

The photo was innocent.

Pure.

Unguarded.

Ehsan posted it on Instagram.

The caption read:

“Some friends are like snow—

they make life beautiful, even in the cold.”

The next morning,

the bakery smelled of fresh coffee and warm bread.

Snow still covered the streets outside.

Zoboriya was arranging cups

when her phone began to vibrate nonstop.

Messages poured in.

“So beautiful!”

“Your bond with Ehsan is special.”

“Zoboriya, you look so happy.”

Her steps slowed.

A strange mix of warmth and unease filled her chest.

She opened Instagram

and saw the picture.

Her silhouette.

Ehsan’s laughter.

That caption.

She stared at the screen for a long moment.

A soft smile formed—

but her eyes glistened.

Taking a steady breath,

she walked toward Ehsan,

who was fixing the coffee machine.

Quietly, she said,

“You know…

I hadn’t seen this picture before.

But now that I have,

I realize something.

Maybe for the first time in my life,

someone has given me respect

without me ever asking for it.”

Ehsan turned toward her.

His eyes were steady, honest.

“Zoboriya,

I only did what felt right.

You are my friend.

And friendship means

making your pain my own.”

She let out a trembling laugh.

“Sometimes I wonder…

if I had met you earlier,

maybe my story would have been different.”

Ehsan remained silent for a moment,

then whispered,

“Perhaps.

But it’s not too late.

Because your next story, Zoboriya—

I’m writing it with you.”

Outside, snow continued to fall.

Inside the bakery,

a new beginning had already been written—

quietly,

in silence.

Meanwhile…

Ehsan’s post was spreading rapidly.

Likes.

Shares.

Comments.

But no one was more restless than AbuZarr.

He opened the photo again and again.

Zoboriya’s silhouette.

The snow.

Ehsan’s presence beside her.

Every detail stabbed his heart.

In anger, he slammed his phone onto the table.

“No… this can’t be.

Zoboriya was only mine.

So why is this Ehsan in her life now?”

He paced the room,

breathing uneven,

hands shaking.

But the most painful part—

the location was hidden.

He searched every comment,

every tag.

Nothing.

Through clenched teeth, he muttered,

“Canada?

Somewhere else?

Why did she leave me…

and why with him?”

Tears burned his eyes.

He typed another message:

“Zoboriya…

just once, tell me you’re okay.

I’m still waiting.”

He stared at the screen for hours.

No reply.

Not even a seen.

That night, AbuZarr lay awake, restless.

Every time he closed his eyes,

the same image returned—

Zoboriya’s smile,

and Ehsan standing beside her.

His heart whispered,

“If I can’t find her…

then maybe I’ll lose her forever.”

(Future Plot – Reader Hook)

Adeeba slowly realizes that her bond with Ehsan is rooted in memory, not the future.

Zoboriya begins to confront her fear of abandonment and learns to trust happiness.

AbuZarr’s obsession turns into regret when he starts understanding the damage he caused.

A moment will come when AbuZarr and Zoboriya face each other—not for reunion, but for closure.

Ehsan will be tested: protect Zoboriya’s peace or face the truth openly.

Love will not arrive loudly—

it will arrive quietly, through consistency, safety, and respect.

(Moral / Lesson)

Not every relationship needs to be named to be meaningful.

True care protects dignity, even in silence.

Some people heal us not by loving us loudly, but by respecting us deeply.

The past may explain pain, but it should never be allowed to control the future.

Friendship built on trust can be stronger than love built on possession.

🔹 Next Short Part (Mini Continuation)

Next Part – Short Scene

The snow stopped falling that night.

In the quiet bakery, Ehsan noticed something change.

Zoboriya no longer looked over her shoulder when the door opened.

For the first time, she felt safe enough

to stay present.

Outside, AbuZarr typed another message—

then erased it.

Inside, Zoboriya smiled without fear.

Some endings don’t need answers.

Some beginnings don’t need promises.

They only need peace.

🔹 Thank You, Dear Readers 🤍

Thank you for walking through this silent winter with us.

Thank you for feeling the pauses, the unspoken words, and the warmth hidden beneath the snow.

If this story touched your heart,

know that it was written for souls who believe

that respect is the purest form of love.

Stay with us—

the story is still breathing.

✨

https://afsanawahidwrites.blogspot.com/2026/01/beeta-hua-rishta-aur-badhta-hua-khatra-kahani.html

All images used on this website are either AI-generated or used for illustrative purposes only.

The Bakery Where Friendship Healed a Broken Heart | A Winter Story of Silent Love and Healing

 

After Gul left, the days at the bakery

After Gul left, the days at the bakery felt much the same—the warmth from the oven, the aroma of fresh bread, and the snow falling quietly outside the window. But one thing had changed—Ehsan seemed to grow a little lighter every day.

Zoboriya never mentioned that day when Gul had come and gone. She knew that some wounds are not healed by words, but by time and silence. She would often place a hot cup of coffee in front of him and quietly return to her counter, giving him the space to sit with his thoughts.

One evening, the snow was falling softly outside. There were few customers in the bakery. Zoboriya came and sat by the window and said,

“You know, Ehsan… some people come into our lives only to teach us that love doesn’t always mean staying together. Sometimes… love just stays in memories, and that’s where it feels right.”

Ehsan gave a faint smile.

“And some people… come into our lives so we can learn how to laugh again.”

Zoboriya looked at him. “So… which list do I belong to?”

Without thinking, Ehsan said, “The second one… and that spot will always stay reserved, only for you.”

They both laughed—the snow was still falling outside, but inside, the bakery was filled with a warm peace.

From that day on, their friendship became a quiet understanding. No burden of Gul, no expectations—just two people who kept each other’s tea warm in the winter, so life could feel a little easier.

After Gul was gone, the bakery’s atmosphere stayed the same—snow falling outside the window, the oven’s comforting heat, and the smell of coffee made by Zoboriya. But now, the heaviness in Ehsan’s eyes had begun to fade. It was as if he had made a small corner in his heart where Gul’s memories could sit in peace.

One cold morning, Ehsan was sitting at his favorite table as always. Outside, children were building a snowman, their laughter carrying through the frosted glass. Zoboriya came over with a tray—one mug of his strong coffee and another of ginger tea.

“Today you’re drinking this along with your coffee,” she said with a smile.

Ehsan raised an eyebrow. “And this sudden order is because…?”

“Because your nose has already given away the first signs of a cold,” she teased lightly.

Ehsan laughed. “You know… if you weren’t here, I might have even forgotten how to talk to myself like this.”

One afternoon, the bakery was busier than usual. Ehsan stood behind the counter helping—washing cups, fixing chairs—it was all new to him. Zoboriya came close and said softly, “You know, it feels good seeing you like this. There’s no exhaustion in your hands now, just a new habit forming.”

Ehsan picked up a cup and said, “Maybe this habit… is like your friendship—it slowly blends into life, and then the day feels incomplete without it.”

Zoboriya didn’t reply, just smiled faintly and walked away.

In the evening snowfall, they sat by the window. Outside, under the yellow streetlight, snowflakes floated in the air.

“Have you ever thought,” Zoboriya said, “every snowflake is different, but once they touch the ground, they all become one. Maybe people are the same—different with their stories, but in the cold of life, we become each other’s warmth.”

Ehsan nodded slowly. “Maybe… and you are my greatest warmth, Zoboriya.”

After that day, their friendship was filled with countless small moments—laughter, silence, the steam of tea, and the snow falling outside the window. Gul’s memory was still there, but with Zoboriya, Ehsan learned—some bonds are deeper than love, and they don’t need a name.

It was a cold winter evening. Outside, snow was falling steadily, and the street was almost empty. Inside, the oven’s heat filled the air, but there was a faint line of worry on Zoboriya’s forehead. While arranging cups on a tray, Ehsan asked, “What’s wrong? You look worried.”

Zoboriya took a deep breath. “There’s a power outage warning for the city… if the power goes out tonight, all the bakery’s supplies will spoil.”

Without hesitation, Ehsan said, “Then I’ll stay here tonight. I can’t leave you alone.”

She looked at him in surprise. “But there’s a snowstorm coming… your home…?”

“My home?” Ehsan smiled softly. “Zoboriya, ever since I started coming here, this bakery has been my home.”

By night, the wind had grown fierce, snow swirling wildly in the air. Most of the city was already in darkness. But inside the bakery, there was the gentle hum of the generator and the flicker of candlelight. They shut down the ovens, moved supplies to safer spots, and finally, exhausted, sat by the window—hot coffee in their hands, listening to the storm outside.

“You know, Ehsan…” Zoboriya spoke softly, “sometimes the fear isn’t about being alone… it’s about the person you rely on suddenly leaving.”

Ehsan looked into her eyes. “Then hear this—I’m not going anywhere. At least… not until you throw me out of your life.”

She laughed. “And I’m not foolish enough to throw a good friend out of my life.”

The night deepened, the storm raged outside, but inside, the unshakable trust between two friends only grew stronger. That night, Ehsan realized—sometimes the greatest strength in life isn’t love, but the friendship that stands beside you in every storm.

The next morning, the storm had passed. Soft sunlight sparkled over snow-covered streets, and the air carried a strange freshness. Zoboriya opened the bakery door, looking at the narrow paths carved through the snow. The bell above the door rang—Ehsan walked in, camera hanging around his neck.

“I went out early to capture the snow,” he said with a smile, “and I thought, after seeing this beauty, my day would be incomplete without your coffee.”

As Zoboriya switched on the coffee machine, she asked, “Shooting for a magazine today?”

“No,” Ehsan shook his head, “today, just for myself… and maybe for you too.”

The coffee cups were still steaming on the table when the bakery door opened again. An elderly woman walked in, holding an old photo album. She went straight to Ehsan and asked, “Are you Ehsan Arif? The famous photographer?”

Ehsan smiled gently. “Yes, that’s me.”

She opened the album. Inside were faded, old photographs—children playing in the snow, wooden houses from years ago.

“These were taken twenty years ago,” her voice trembled slightly. “One of these children was my daughter. She’s no longer in this world. I want… if possible, for you to give me a new picture of this same place, so that new memories can join the old ones.”

Ehsan studied the photographs closely—his gaze froze. He remembered the place—an old bridge at the edge of the city, now probably buried in snow. Zoboriya had quietly listened, then said softly, “The storm has just cleared, but for your camera and your heart, this is the perfect moment, Ehsan. Come on, I’ll go with you.”

Soon, they were walking through snowy streets towards that old bridge. The sunlight gleamed on the snow, and the air was filled with the kind of silence found only in old stories. Ehsan lifted his camera—one frame… then another… with each click, he wasn’t just capturing a scene, but the comfort a mother’s heart had been longing for.

Zoboriya stood beside him, her eyes filled with pride and peace—as if she knew that Ehsan didn’t just take photographs, he completed people’s unfinished stories.

That evening, when they gave the new photograph to the woman, her eyes were wet, but her smile carried the calm that comes after a storm. Zoboriya looked at Ehsan and said, “See? Your camera doesn’t just capture pictures, it heals hearts.”

Ehsan replied with a quiet laugh, “And your friendship heals mine.”

What Could Happen Next (Future Plot Idea)

Gul unexpectedly returns to the city and visits the bakery.

She sees Ehsan changed — peaceful, healed, smiling again.

Zoboriya feels a silent insecurity but stays mature.

Gul realizes she was once love, but Zoboriya is now home.

Ehsan chooses honesty — not romance, but gratitude.

Story ends with emotional closure, not drama — a mature love triangle healed by understanding.

OR A new twist:

The elderly woman’s daughter was connected to Ehsan’s childhood memory.

He discovers photography was his hidden purpose.

Zoboriya becomes part of his future dream project (a small photo gallery + bakery café).

✅ Lesson of the Story(Moral / Lesson)

Sometimes love leaves, but life does not end.

Healing doesn’t always come from romance —

sometimes it comes quietly, through friendship, patience, and shared silence.

True bonds are not always named.

Some people enter our lives not to stay forever,

but to help us become whole again.

✅ Next Short Part (Mini Continuation – Emotional & Soft)

Next Short Part:

That evening, the bakery was quieter than usual.

Only the ticking clock and the soft hum of the coffee machine filled the space.

Zoboriya wiped the counter slowly while Ehsan arranged the photographs he had taken that morning.

One picture caught her attention —

the old bridge, glowing under fresh snowfall,

and in the corner of the frame… a faint reflection of the two of them.

“You didn’t tell me you captured this one,” she said softly.

Ehsan looked at the photo, then at her.

“Some moments,” he replied,

“are meant to be felt before they’re shared.”

Zoboriya smiled, but her heart beat a little faster.

Outside, the snow fell again —

not to cover the past,

but to make room for something quietly new.

✅ Thank You Message for Readers

Thank You Message:

Thank you for reading this story and sharing these quiet moments with Ehsan and Zoboriya.

If their journey touched your heart even a little, then this story has found its purpose.

Sometimes healing happens softly —

through warmth, friendship, and silent understanding.

Stay close to stories that make you feel.

Until the next chapter… thank you for being here. 🤍

All images used on this website are either AI-generated or used for illustrative purposes only.

When Snow Brings Back the Past | A Winter Love Story of Ehsan, Gul & Zoboriya

 

Outside, snowflakes were floating gently in the air, slowly settling on the ground.

On the white layer along the roadside, every footstep could be heard clearly.

Beyond the large glass window, Zoboriya’s bakery was filled with warmth and softness—

the aroma of vanilla and cinnamon rising from the oven, and the faint glow of a candle in the corner.

Ehsan was seated at the table near the window.

In front of him, Zoboriya placed a cup of hot chocolate, its surface topped with whipped cream and a light sprinkle of cocoa powder.

Beside the cup sat a small blueberry muffin, whose fragrance made one forget the cold outside entirely.

Pulling her shawl tighter, Zoboriya drew out a chair and sat down.

“It’s snowing heavily today… I thought you wouldn’t come.”

Ehsan gazed at the steam rising from his cup and said softly—

“No matter how cold it is outside… when I come here, I forget everything.”

Zoboriya smiled, but her eyes carried a faint glimmer of understanding.

There were other customers in the bakery, yet around this table, there seemed to be a different kind of calm.

For a while, they both sat in silence.

The soft sound of snow falling outside and the gentle hum of the oven inside…

It wasn’t an awkward silence—it was like a warm blanket both of them were wrapped in.

Ehsan took a sip from his cup, then looked at Zoboriya and said quietly—

“Zoboriya… maybe I can’t forget Gul, but I also don’t want to stay tied to her anymore.”

In a gentle tone, Zoboriya replied—

“Ehsan, forgetting isn’t always necessary… what matters is that the memory stops hurting.”

She took a small sip from her cup, then glanced outside—

Across the street, a shadow was slowly making its way toward them through the snow…

A wool cap on the head, gloves on the hands, and a long coat.

Ehsan followed her gaze toward the window… and his hand froze on the rim of his cup.

That face…

One he had only seen in memories…

Now stood in the middle of the falling snow.

Gul.

Inside, the warmth of the oven filled the bakery, but the glimmer and moisture in Ehsan’s eyes told Zoboriya how deep Gul’s place was in his life.

Placing her hot chocolate back on the table, Zoboriya softly asked—

> “Ehsan… you must have a picture of Gul, don’t you?”

Ehsan looked at her for a moment, then lowered his eyes.

His lips moved slightly, as if touching an old memory before speaking.

From his pocket, he pulled out his old phone—the case worn down, as though it carried years of dust.

He unlocked the screen, opened the gallery… and after scrolling for a few seconds, stopped.

Every movement of his thumb seemed to weigh heavily on his heart.

“This…”

He extended the phone toward Zoboriya.

On the screen was a photo of a girl—

a faint smile, hair tousled by the wind, and eyes holding an innocent sparkle.

Behind her seemed to be a park, and a scarf around her neck fluttered lightly in the breeze.

Zoboriya stared at the picture.

She could tell this wasn’t just a face—

it was the part of Ehsan’s heartbeat he had never fully given to anyone else.

In a low voice, she said—

“Your eyes… they change the moment you say her name, Ehsan.

Like someone has opened the door to your heart.”

Taking the phone back, Ehsan exhaled deeply—

“Because Gul lives in that room of my heart… the one I never locked.”

Outside, the snow began to fall harder.

Zoboriya kept looking past the window… and felt as though, through this snow, the past was slowly finding its way back to the bakery.

---

Beyond the bakery’s window, snowflakes swirled in the air before settling to the ground.

Zoboriya was still looking outside when her eyes froze on a shadow—

a long wool coat, a light white scarf around the neck, a hat over the head… and steps sinking slowly into the snow as they moved closer.

Ehsan followed her gaze.

The coffee cup in his hand stopped midair.

It was as if a cold wave from an old wound had swept across his face.

> “Gul…”

He said it so softly, as if the name froze in the air as soon as it left his lips.

Moments later, the bell above the door chimed—

Tring…

and a burst of cold air rushed into the bakery’s warmth.

There she was—Gul.

Her cheeks were tinged pink from the snow, and her eyes carried countless unspoken words.

She froze as soon as she stepped inside… and her gaze locked directly on Ehsan.

For a moment, everything else in the bakery vanished—

no customers, no oven’s hum, just three beating hearts.

Zoboriya glanced at Ehsan.

Surprise and restlessness colored his face, but also a strange stillness—

as if she understood this moment belonged only to Ehsan and Gul, and she would simply be a silent witness.

Gul stepped closer, stopping by Ehsan’s table.

Her voice was low, yet it carried both an old warmth and a cold regret—

“Ehsan… we need to talk.”

Outside, the snow kept falling,

but inside, the season in the bakery had completely changed.

---

The Canadian winter night outside was draped in falling snow.

Through the bakery’s fogged-up windows, the streetlights cast a golden glow over the white streets.

Inside, the warmth of the oven and the scent of freshly baked chocolate cake filled the air.

From behind the counter, Zoboriya called out—

> “Ehsan… someone’s here for you.”

Ehsan looked up absentmindedly—

and it was as if his breath stopped.

There was Gul… the same eyes, the same silence, the same fragrance, as though time had never touched her.

She tried to smile softly—

“Salaam, Ehsan…”

His lips moved—

“Gul…”

Zoboriya felt that much had already been said in their eyes—things words could never carry.

She quietly brought three cups of coffee to the window table and left them there, stepping away so their silence wouldn’t be disturbed.

Gul removed her gloves, placing them on the table, and wrapped her hands around the cup, as if seeking courage from its warmth.

For a few moments, they simply sat in silence.

Then Gul took a deep breath—

“You must be wondering… why I’ve come after so many years.”

Ehsan’s voice was soft and low—

“There’s a lot to wonder about, Gul.

Not just one question… a thousand.”

Gul lowered her gaze.

“That day… when I left… I couldn’t tell you everything.

My father was sick, the house was in debt, and my younger siblings were in school.

My uncle… arranged my marriage to a wealthy man.

I knew if I refused, my home… my family… would fall apart.”

Her eyes glistened, but she didn’t let the tears fall.

Ehsan looked at the steam rising from his cup, as though hiding his heart’s weight in it.

“So… you never chose me, Gul?”

Gul’s eyes shot up instantly—

“No… I didn’t leave you, Ehsan.

I left myself… so my family could survive.

Forgetting you… was like dying for me.”

For a moment, they just looked at each other.

Outside, the snow fell faster, but inside, time had frozen.

Ehsan exhaled slowly—

“Gul… I never cursed you.

But I never thought you’d return like this either.”

Gul’s lips trembled—

“Maybe I’m too late…

but I wanted to see if you’re okay… if you’re happy.”

Ehsan gave a faint, pained smile—

“Happy? Maybe… I’ve learned to live without you.

But your memory… never left.”

Her eyes filled.

“If I had stayed that day…?”

Ehsan looked deep into her eyes—

“Then maybe today, we’d be living another story…

But Gul… our story ended that day.”

Silently, Gul placed her cup on the table, put on her gloves, and said in a low voice—

“Khuda Hafiz, Ehsan…”

As she walked to the door, his eyes followed her steps.

The door opened, a rush of cold wind and snowflakes entered, and Gul disappeared into the hazy snowfall.

Zoboriya quietly came over, placed a hot coffee in front of him, and softly said—

“Some people return only to say goodbye… so we can finally move forward.”

Ehsan lifted the cup, but his eyes were still fixed on that door.

---

After Gul left, the oven’s warmth and the aroma of coffee returned to the bakery,

but it felt as though cold air had frozen inside Ehsan’s heart.

He sat quietly in his chair, stirring his coffee,

but didn’t take a single sip.

Zoboriya pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down.

For a while, she too said nothing—just watched him.

> “The pain of the heart is strange, Ehsan,”

she finally said,

“It does heal, but it leaves scars.”

Ehsan smiled faintly, but it carried exhaustion.

“Maybe… those scars remind us that we truly loved someone.”

Zoboriya took a sip from her cup, then said—

“Gul is gone… but your life is still here.

You’ve built something, you’re standing on your own…

and most importantly—you’re not alone.

I’m here, and I’ll stay… as a friend.”

Ehsan looked into her eyes—there was no lie, no greed, no hidden hope… just the promise of true friendship.

“Thank you, Zoboriya.

Today… you kept me from falling.”

She chuckled softly—

“Oh, I let people fall sometimes… but I don’t let them break.”

Outside, the snow was still falling,

but inside… by the bakery’s window sat two friends—

One who had lost love,

and the other who simply wanted to help her friend learn to smile again.

---

🔹 What Happens Next? (Future Plot – Reader

Gul’s return was not meant to restart a love story —

it was meant to close one properly.

After that night, Ehsan slowly begins to confront the emotions he had buried for years.

Zoboriya, without forcing anything, becomes his emotional anchor — steady, patient, and present.

In the coming parts:

Gul will disappear completely from Ehsan’s daily thoughts, not painfully, but peacefully

Ehsan will start seeing Zoboriya not just as a friend, but as someone who stayed when it was hardest

Zoboriya’s own past will slowly unfold, revealing why she understands loss so deeply

This story will move from loss → healing → quiet love.

🔹 What This Story Teaches Us (Moral / Lesson)

This story teaches us that:

Not every love is meant to last forever

Some people enter our lives only to teach us how deeply we can feel

Closure is not about getting someone back — it is about letting pain leave your heart

And sometimes, the strongest love is the one that waits silently, without demanding anything

Healing doesn’t come loudly.

It comes gently — like snow.

🔹 Next Short Part (Teaser / Continuation)

Part 2 – After the Snow

The bakery felt quieter the next morning.

Ehsan stood by the window, watching the street where Gul had vanished the night before. The snow had been cleared, but something inside him still felt untouched — not broken, just tender.

Zoboriya placed a cup of coffee beside him.

“You’re thinking less today,” she said.

“Because I finally understand,” Ehsan replied.

“Some chapters end… not because they were wrong, but because they were complete.”

Zoboriya smiled — not as someone waiting for love,

but as someone who knew it would arrive when it was ready.

Outside, the snow had stopped falling.

Inside, something new had quietly begun.

🔹 Thank You Message for Read

Thank you for reading 💙

Your time, your emotions, and your presence mean more than words can say.

If this story touched even a small part of your heart, then it has done its job.

Don’t forget to like, share, and leave your thoughts —

because stories live longer when readers feel them.

See you in the next part ❄️☕

All images used on this website are either AI-generated or used for illustrative purposes only.

“She Left Her Fragrance Behind | A Silent Love Story of Ehsan, Gul & Zoboriya”

 

The evening was slowly slipping away,

and a soft golden hue spread across the sky—

as if the sun itself was hesitating to leave.

In the quiet garden, Gul and Ehsan sat on the same bench,

close enough to feel each other’s presence,

yet far enough for the words in their hearts to remain trapped.

Silence surrounded them,

but inside, both were drowning in unsaid truths.

Gul inhaled deeply—

as though lifting a weight that had been crushing her chest for days.

“Ehsan… we should meet one last time,”

she whispered,

“and… today is that day.”

Ehsan turned toward her, startled.

“One last time?”

His voice faltered.

“Why are you saying that?”

Gul lowered her eyes,

her fingers nervously twisting the bangle around her wrist—

the same bangle Ehsan once admired.

“I’ve been hiding something from you…”

she said softly.

“I thought time would make it easier to tell you…

but time only pushed the truth closer to my heart.”

Her voice trembled.

“My parents have arranged my marriage elsewhere, Ehsan.

And I cannot change their decision.

For them, this isn’t just a marriage…

it’s a matter of family honor.”

Ehsan’s breath grew heavy,

as if the air around him had suddenly vanished.

“So you’ll just walk away?”

he asked quietly.

“Everything we dreamed of…

the promises we made?”

Tears gathered in Gul’s eyes,

but she refused to let them fall.

“Promises…”

she said, almost smiling through pain,

“sometimes in love, promises are meant to be broken—

so the other person can live…

even if it’s without us.”

She stood slowly,

stepped closer to Ehsan,

and held his hands—

hands that had once felt like home.

“You will always be the one

who painted my life with the most beautiful colors,”

she whispered.

“But the colors of my fate…

were written for someone else.”

Ehsan couldn’t speak.

He only looked into her eyes—

eyes still full of love,

but no longer meant for him.

Gul gently released his hands,

turned away,

and walked into the mist.

Ehsan watched her

until she disappeared completely.

Her fragrance lingered in the air—

but he knew now,

it would only bloom in his memories.

After Gul left, the bench stood empty.

Yet to Ehsan,

it felt as though her shadow still sat beside him.

Every day, he walked past that path,

glanced at the bench,

and then looked away—

as if avoiding it could erase the pain.

Days passed,

but time seemed frozen for him.

College laughter, classroom noise,

the clatter of cups at tea stalls—

everything became distant echoes.

His mind lived elsewhere.

Nights were the hardest.

He sat by the window for hours,

searching the sky—

as if Gul’s face might appear among the stars.

Sometimes, he almost heard her voice—

“Ehsan… are you alright?”

But when he blinked,

the room was empty again.

Books became his refuge—

not to study,

but to silence his thoughts.

Coffee tasted bitter now.

Rain no longer calmed him—

because the first time he saw Gul,

she was walking in the rain.

People said,

“Ehsan has changed.”

But the truth was—

he hadn’t changed.

He had only locked a room inside his heart…

and lost the key forever.

Sometimes, staring at his reflection,

he thought—

“Maybe Gul has forgotten me…

And me?

I’m still standing there…

at that bench.”

As Ehsan finished recounting his past,

his voice broke.

Words refused to come—

only a deep sigh escaped.

Zoboriya watched him quietly.

The man who looked strong and distant

was shattered within.

Her eyes filled with tears—

his pain had reached her heart.

She asked softly,

“Then… you never saw her again?”

Ehsan shook his head,

a faint smile appearing—

the kind that hides old wounds.

“No, Zoboriya.

She just came…

left her fragrance…

and went away.

After that…

I kept searching for that scent in the wind.”

Silence followed.

Outside, snow fell gently.

Between them lay a season

that was neither warm nor cold—

only still, and damp.

Zoboriya’s eyes were still moist.

She was about to speak

when Ehsan looked at her—

a gaze filled with care,

yet guarded by boundaries.

“Zoboriya…

you mean a lot to me.

More than you can imagine.

But… only as a friend.”

Her face froze for a brief moment—

surprised, yet calm.

No complaint touched her eyes.

She smiled softly.

“Sometimes, friendship is deeper than love, Ehsan.

Because friends…

don’t promise to leave.”

Ehsan lowered his gaze.

Perhaps he found comfort in knowing

that the distance between them

was built on understanding,

not misunderstanding.

Outside, the snow had stopped.

Sunlight entered the room,

casting their shadows close—

yet each standing in their own place.

Zoboriya leaned a little closer

and said gently—

“Ehsan…

I promise I will never leave you.

You are the first…

and the best friend I’ve ever had.”

Her words wrapped around his heart

like warm tea on a cold evening.

Ehsan smiled faintly,

his eyes still shining.

“In friendship, promises are precious, Zoboriya.

And I… will never forget yours.”

A silence followed—

but not a heavy one.

It was the silence of trust

slowly taking root.

Sunlight now filled the room completely.

And for the first time in a long while,

Ehsan felt—

perhaps the season

was finally about to change 🌤️

🔹 What Can Happen Next in This Story?

The story can naturally move forward in three possible directions — whichever path it chooses:

1. Slow Healing Arc

Zoboriya, without forcing anything, will begin to heal Ehsan’s wounds simply by staying beside him.

Not love at first — but peace will come before love.

2. Closure from the Past

One day, Ehsan may receive a quiet message from Gul —

something that helps him understand that some stories remain incomplete,

yet still become whole in their own way.

3. Friendship → Quiet Love

No confessions. No promises.

One day, Ehsan will realize that Zoboriya hasn’t just been sitting beside him…

she has reached the locked rooms of his heart.

🔹 What Do We Learn from This Story?

Not every goodbye is a betrayal

Some loves demand sacrifice, not union

Sometimes, friendship is deeper than love

Those who leave may live on in memories

And those who stay… teach us how to live again

🔹 Next Short Part (Mini Continuation)

Short Part: “The First Unlocked Window”

Zoboriya placed a cup of tea in front of Ehsan.

This time, she didn’t say anything.

She simply set the cup down

and opened the window.

Cold air flowed into the room.

For the first time, Ehsan felt it —

this air did not bring Gul’s memories.

This time…

it helped him breathe.

Zoboriya smiled softly and said,

“Sometimes, closed rooms

only need fresh air…

not memories.”

Ehsan lifted the cup.

The tea was still warm.

Perhaps…

life was too.

🔹 Thank You Message for Readers (End Note)

“Thank you from the heart for reading this story.

If you felt Ehsan’s pain, Gul’s helplessness,

or Zoboriya’s quiet loyalty —

then know that the story has done its job.

Your reading is the greatest reward for a writer.”

https://afsanawahidwrites.blogspot.com/2026/01/dr-bakhsh-kandeel-maafi-aur-mohabbat.html

“I am originally a Hindi writer, and I translate my stories into English to share them here.

Please forgive any grammatical errors that may appear in the translation.

I hope the feelings behind the words remain intact.”

All images used on this website are either AI-generated or used for illustrative purposes only.

“When Winter Ends: Ehsan, Zoboria & the Fragrance of an Unfinished Love”

 

The bakery doorbell rang again.

The man — who had been standing near the door until now — paused for a moment, then slowly walked out.

On the blanket of snow, his footprints remained visible for a short while… then the wind covered them.

Ehsan closed the door without saying anything, but his hand lingered on the latch for a few seconds, as if trying to hold on to an invisible weight.

Inside, the aroma of coffee now felt cold.

Zoboria kept working on the bills — her hands moved quickly, as if the rustle of papers could suppress the unrest inside her.

Ehsan looked at her… her face now felt like an open book with a fresh page, but the words had not yet been written.

After a moment of silence, Ehsan spoke—

> “He’s gone.”

Without lifting her gaze, Zoboria replied—

“Some people are not meant to return, Ehsan.

They just… make the mistake of coming in the first place.”

She placed the last receipt on the counter and took a deep breath.

For the first time, her eyes met Ehsan’s — there was weariness in them, but also a quiet strength.

“I’m no longer afraid of someone leaving.

But… I want whoever stays, to truly want to be here.”

Ehsan gave a faint smile, as if this was exactly what he had been waiting to hear.

“I’m not going anywhere, Zoboria.

But perhaps… it’s time we let the season change.”

Outside, the snow had stopped falling.

Soft rays of sunlight peeked through the clouds — as if someone had slightly opened the door after a long winter.

Zoboria picked up the photo frame from the counter and placed it by the window.

This time, she didn’t turn it over, didn’t look at the date… she just left it there, as if giving the past its own place.

Ehsan turned on the coffee machine, and between them spread a new, quiet fragrance —

a fragrance that hinted at a new season.

---

The only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock.

Zoboria sat silently across from him, her eyes full of questions, but her lips sealed.

Ehsan lowered his gaze, as if descending into the depth of a memory.

His voice was soft — the voice of someone afraid to let out a pain that had been buried in his chest for years.

> “Zoboria… there was a time when I loved someone with all my heart.

She was in my prayers, in every dream… in every moment.”

His fingers tapped lightly on the table, as if playing the music of restlessness.

“She left… so far away that maybe even the thought of returning never crossed her mind.

But… I don’t know why… I’m still searching for her.

On the streets, in crowds, in the faces of strangers… I feel like somewhere, I’ll find her.”

Zoboria lowered her eyes.

In Ehsan’s gaze was a strange mix of light and sorrow —

a love that hadn’t ended, just remained unfinished.

“I thought time would heal it… but time only deepened her absence.”

The room was wrapped in silence,

broken only by the sound of their hearts beating.

---

Zoboria broke the silence, her eyes still fixed on Ehsan’s face.

Her voice was soft, as if carefully turning the pages of an old book—

> “I’d like to hear… about the girl you still haven’t forgotten.

What… was her name?”

Ehsan stayed quiet for a moment. In his eyes, a distant image began to form —

a faint smile, rain-soaked hair, and that gaze… that held both strangeness and familiarity.

His throat tightened slightly, then he spoke softly—

“Her name… was Gul Mehar.”

Zoboria repeated the name, tasting its sweetness—

“Gul Mehar…”

Ehsan took a slow breath.

“She was like her name… she came into my life and flowers bloomed all around me… and one day, just like her name, she scattered her fragrance and left…”

He paused, as if finding words was difficult.

“Gul was my laughter, my peace… I was ready to fight the world for her… but fate seemed to take that right away from me.”

Zoboria felt an unfamiliar ache rise in her chest. She asked softly,

“Why didn’t you stop searching for her…?”

Ehsan’s eyes were fixed somewhere far away, in the empty sky.

“Because… some people are not meant to be let go, Zoboria. No matter how far they go… there’s always a corner of your heart where they stay alive. Gul… is still there.”

His words carried a strange weariness and longing, as if he had been carrying the weight of an unfinished prayer for years.

---

Zoboria’s gaze stayed on Ehsan’s face, as if trying to read every layer hidden behind his words.

Ehsan remained silent for a moment, then took a deep breath — his eyes seemed to hold many seasons at once.

> “Gul…”

Just one name, but it carried so much love, so much pain, that Zoboria felt even the air had paused to listen.

“She was like her name… when she came into my life, she spread colors and fragrance everywhere… and when she left, it was as if the garden inside me had withered.”

Zoboria asked quietly—

“The first time… how did you meet her?”

Ehsan’s gaze drifted far away, as if opening the door to some old, dusty memory.

---

That day was just like this —

a cool morning after rain, when the sun peeked gently through the clouds.

Ehsan was standing near the college gate, waiting for a friend.

Then he saw a girl approaching —

a white salwar-kurta, books in her hands, and drops of water falling from her hair, glistening in the sunlight.

She walked slowly towards him and stopped right in front of him.

> “Excuse me… does this path lead to the library?”

Ehsan simply nodded, and she gave a faint smile before walking ahead.

In that moment, Ehsan didn’t know that this meeting would leave an imprint on his heart for a lifetime.

In his mind, he had whispered—

“Gul…”

Because she truly looked like a flower in bloom.

---

That day, the weather felt different —

a gentle cool breeze, and sunlight slipping through the clouds, like golden threads falling behind a silk curtain.

Ehsan sat in the old college garden, lost in his books. The same garden where the dappled sunlight always brought him peace.

But that day, there was something unusual in the air.

From a distance came the sound of a soft laugh —

light, delicate, like the first raindrop singing as it touches the earth.

Ehsan looked up… and saw her.

In a white salwar-kameez, a strand of hair playing in the breeze. Books in her hands, and in her eyes —

a glow, as if someone had captured the moonlight.

She stumbled, dropping her books.

Without thinking, Ehsan quickly got up and walked towards her.

> “Your books…” he said, bending to pick them up, and for the first time, his fingers brushed against Gul’s.

“Th… thank you,” she said softly.

“Gul,” the name escaped Ehsan’s lips without him realizing it.

She smiled faintly and replied, “Gul Mehar… and you?”

“Ehsan,” he said simply, but somewhere in his heart, this name was already written for her.

In that moment, Ehsan didn’t know that this meeting would place the first flower between the pages of his life — a flower whose fragrance would never fade, even after years.

Gul had come into his life like her name, and then, like the petals of a rose, she had scattered and gone… but her scent — it always remained.

---

What Do We Learn from This Story?

Love does not simply mean staying — it means staying with the heart.

Not every past love needs to be erased; some memories shape us into who we are.

When someone stays, it is a choice, not a compulsion.

After every winter, spring always arrives — we only need to keep the door slightly open.

🔮 What Could Happen Next in This Story? (Possible Story Arcs)

🌱 1. Gul Mehar Is Not Just a Memory — She Could Become a Truth

Later in the story, it may be revealed that:

Gul Mehar did not leave Ehsan by choice, but due to circumstances.

Perhaps because of:

family pressure

illness

or a misunderstanding that was never cleared

👉 This will leave readers wondering: “What was the real truth?”

🌙 2. Zoboria’s Internal Conflict (The Strongest Arc)

Zoboria:

Begins to feel love for Ehsan

But fears becoming just a temporary stop in his life

As the story moves forward:

She starts pulling herself back

Speaks less, feels more

Clearly defines her self-respect and emotional boundaries

👉 This builds a strong female character arc, which readers deeply connect with.

🔁 . When the Past Confronts the Present

One day:

An old college friend may walk into the bakery

Or a letter, photo, or message from Gul resurfaces

This moment:

Forces Ehsan to face his past

Pushes Zoboria toward making a difficult choice

👉 This is where the story reaches its emotional peak.

☕ 4. Ehsan’s Choice — The Hardest Decision

Ehsan realizes:

“I thought I was searching for Gul…

but maybe I was running away from myself.”

He must decide:

Either to stop chasing the past

Or to set Zoboria free by telling her the complete truth

👉 This is where the halal-romance essence becomes strongest.

🌸 5. Gul Mehar’s Entry (Late but Powerful)

Gul Mehar might:

Be married

Or settled into a different life

Or arrive only to give closure

One of her dialogues could be:

“Ehsan… I didn’t come back to stay.

I came to help you move forward.”

👉 This moment will make readers cry — and feel deeply satisfied.

🌤️ 6. Possible Endings (Your Choice)

✨ Ending 1: Healing Ending (Most Powerful)

Gul becomes the past

Zoboria becomes the present and future

Their relationship grows slowly, respectfully, and in a halal way

🌧️ Ending 2: Bittersweet Ending

Ehsan remains alone

Zoboria chooses self-respect

Both choose healing over attachment

🌺 Ending 3: Faith-Based Ending

Ehsan understands everything was part of Allah’s plan

He learns both patience and gratitude

A new relationship with Zoboria begins with the intention of nikah

✍️ Strong Line You Can Use Ahead

“Some people remain as memories…

and some become prayers.”

✍️ Next Short Part (Mini Continuation)

Next Part: “The Question That Changed the Season”

Zoboria stood up slowly and walked towards the window.

The sunlight touched her face, soft but honest.

“Ehsan,” she said without turning,

“Agar Gul Mehar kabhi wapas aa jaye…

toh kya tum mujhe chhod doge?”

Ehsan didn’t answer immediately.

He stood there, between the past and the present —

realizing for the first time that some questions don’t demand words…

they demand truth.

The coffee machine hissed softly.

Outside, a single bird chirped —

as if the season was waiting for his answer.

(To be continued…)

💌 Thank You Message for Readers
Short & Sweet:

Thank you for reading and feeling this story.

Your time is the greatest value my words could ever receive. 🤍

Emotional Version:

Those who pause after reading a story

are not just readers…

they become a part of the story itself.

Thank you from the heart. 🌙

All images used on this website are either AI-generated or used for illustrative purposes only.

“Where the Past Returned Once More — A Winter Love Story”

 

The man — whose name now surfaced in Zoboria’s eyes like an old wound pressed under fresh snow — stepped back just a little.

Inside his coat pocket, something still felt heavy…

maybe words that had waited too long,

maybe something he once meant to give but never did.

He let it remain trapped there — unclaimed, unsaid.

Ahsan glanced at him briefly —

not with the satisfaction of winning,

nor the sharpness of triumph,

but with a quiet finality that seemed to whisper,

“Your time here has already ended.”

Zoboria tightened her grip on the gift bag.

The photo frame inside no longer felt like wood and glass —

it felt like the last fragile bridge between two seasons that would never meet again.

The man turned away.

His footsteps sank deep into the snow,

leaving marks behind —

marks the morning sun would surely erase,

but ones that would stay etched somewhere far deeper,

where seasons never melt.

Zoboria whispered, almost to herself —

“Khuda Hafiz…”

He didn’t turn back.

Only gave a small, tired shrug of his shoulder

and kept walking.

A few steps ahead, his shadow thinned,

then quietly dissolved into the snowy haze.

Ahsan came to stand beside her.

The camera was still in his hands,

but for once, he didn’t raise it.

Zoboria looked at him —

weariness resting in her eyes,

relief softening her shoulders,

and an apology she never found the courage to speak aloud.

“You didn’t say anything…”

Her voice stayed low,

as if she feared the air itself might freeze an answer she wasn’t ready to hear.

Ahsan’s lips curved into a faint smile.

“Sometimes… silence gives the clearest picture.”

They walked back toward the bakery door together.

The warmth inside wrapped around them like an old quilt —

slightly worn, gently familiar,

yet still strong enough to keep the cold outside where it belonged.

Behind the counter, Zoboria placed the photo frame down.

Snow-melt still clung to the glass.

She wiped it softly with her fingertip

and noticed the date hidden behind the picture —

“12 December, 2017.”

Ahsan watched her quietly and said —

“That day… there was less snow,

but much more of your laughter.”

A small smile trembled at her eyelashes.

“And today…?”

Ahsan leaned in just a little closer — close enough to be felt.

“Today there’s more snow…

but maybe now, it’s my turn to make you laugh.”

Outside, the snow kept falling.

Inside, the scent of coffee lingered in the air,

and the quiet rhythm of two hearts slowly began weaving a new season —

one that didn’t belong only to stillness,

but carried the certainty that sometimes,

becoming the reason someone chooses to stay

is the longest journey a heart ever makes.

The afternoon slowly faded.

Outside, the snowfall had softened,

yet the sky still hung low and heavy —

as if holding something it wasn’t ready to release.

Zoboria sat behind the counter, sorting bills.

Ahsan rinsed a tray of cups nearby.

Only two customers remained,

seated by the window, sipping tea and speaking in hushed tones.

The bakery had slipped back into its familiar rhythm.

Then the doorbell rang again.

Zoboria’s hand froze mid-movement.

At the door stood the same man —

but the sharpness from earlier was gone.

In its place was an unease that came not from the cold outside,

but from something unsettled within.

“I need to tell you… and you…”

He glanced at Ahsan,

“…both of you… something.”

His voice shook,

as though the words themselves were afraid to cross his lips.

Ahsan quietly set the tray aside.

Zoboria remained still.

The man stepped closer and gestured toward the photo frame on the counter.

“That picture… it’s not just a memory.

It’s proof.”

Zoboria frowned slightly.

“Proof… of what?”

He inhaled deeply.

“That day… when the picture was taken,

I already knew I wouldn’t be able to stay with you for long.

Because… I was leaving.”

Ahsan spoke, controlled and firm —

“We know. You left. That’s all.”

The man shook his head.

“No, Ahsan. I left because I had to.

Not for you, Zoboria…

not even for myself.

But… for your brother.”

The words struck the room like a silent wave.

Shock filled Zoboria’s eyes.

“My brother…? But his—”

“His accident happened that very day.

You didn’t know… but I was there.

I saw him for the last time.

And before he left… he said something to me.”

Ahsan’s gaze hardened.

“What did he say?”

The man hesitated, then whispered —

“He said… If I don’t make it, take care of her in my place.

And I couldn’t break that promise…

but I chose the wrong way to keep it.”

Zoboria’s breath trembled.

“So you left without telling me…

just to protect me?”

He held her gaze.

“Yes…

but in trying to protect you,

I may have broken you even more.”

Ahsan asked quietly —

“Why tell the truth now?”

A tired shine passed through the man’s eyes.

“Because I’m leaving… for good.

And I don’t want to leave behind

only unanswered questions in your heart.”

Zoboria lifted the photo frame again,

her fingers shaking.

Outside, the snow began to fall harder —

as if the day itself knew it was time

to bury an old season completely.

The air inside the bakery grew heavy.

A chair scraped somewhere behind them, unnoticed.

The silence between the three swallowed every other sound.

Zoboria finally spoke — her voice breaking.

“Why did you hide this from me?

Do you know how many years I blamed myself?

Wondering what I did wrong…

why you suddenly disappeared?”

He stepped forward instinctively —

but Ahsan moved between them, firm and steady.

“Sometimes,” Ahsan said,

“the right moment to speak the truth passes.

And when it returns…

it comes back only as pain.”

The man looked directly at Ahsan.

“You think I’m only the past…

but I swore on her brother’s life.

And I’m still keeping that oath.”

Ahsan’s voice didn’t rise —

it grounded itself.

“Keeping an oath

and returning to someone’s life to disturb it again

are not the same thing.”

Zoboria raised her hand.

“Enough.

I’m not a rope to be pulled from both ends.

Not the burden of the past…

and not a test for someone’s present.”

Her eyes were wet,

but her stance was steady now.

The man tried to speak again.

She stopped him gently.

“Your truth may earn you my forgiveness…

but it cannot bring you back into my life.”

She placed the photo frame back on the counter —

as if closing the final page of a book

she had carried for too many years.

Ahsan looked at her.

No words were exchanged,

but this was his test too.

“Zoboria,” he said softly,

“I’m here — for whatever you need.

But it’s your choice…

whether you want me to be part of your stillness or not.”

Outside, snow fell thicker.

The three stood near the door —

on an invisible threshold

where seasons could change in a single breath.

Zoboria inhaled deeply.

Her gaze moved from the man,

to Ahsan,

then to the snow outside.

“I didn’t want to change the season…

but maybe stillness means

choosing where you belong

in the season you’re already in.”

She returned behind the counter.

She didn’t stop either of them.

And in that quiet moment…

both Ahsan and the man understood —

the decision had already been made. ❄️🤍

🔹  What Can Happen Next in This Story? (Natural Progress)

The story does not move forward through drama,

but through emotional maturity:

Ahsan does not create pressure — he gives Zoboria time.

Slowly, Zoboria understands that peace is not found in loud emotions, but in consistency.

The bakery becomes a safe space — where the two of them exist together without labels or expectations.

One day, Zoboria herself says to Ahsan:

“You are not my need… you are my choice.”

Love here is not about possession, but about presence.

🔹 . What This Story Teaches Us

❄️ When truth arrives at the wrong time, it becomes only pain.

☕ The one who stays — truly stays.

📷 Love does not need to be proven; it needs to be felt.

🤍 The past can be forgiven, but it does not have to be invited back.

🌨️ Stillness, too, is a decision.

 Next Short Part 

Short Part – “After the Door Closed”

The bell stopped ringing.

Outside, footprints slowly disappeared under fresh snow.

Inside, Zoboria wiped the counter —

not because it was dirty,

but because her hands needed something to do.

Ahsan didn’t speak.

He just placed a cup of coffee in front of her.

No questions.

No promises.

Only presence.

Zoboria looked at the steam rising.

For the first time in years,

the past didn’t ache.

It simply rested — quietly —

exactly where it belonged.

Thank You Note (For Readers)

Thank you for reading this story.

If even a single line managed to touch your heart,

then this story has fulfilled its purpose.

Sometimes, stories are not meant just to be read —

they are meant to help us understand a little more.

Your presence in this journey

is its most beautiful part. 🤍

https://afsanawahidwrites.blogspot.com/2026/01/doctor-bakhsh-kandeel-love-story.html

This story was written by the author, with language assistance for clarity.

All images used on this website are either AI-generated or used for illustrative purposes only.