Romantic Short Stories: Love Off the Field

Hello, Friends! It’s Monday, and I’m here again with a new short love story. This week’s romantic short story is about the personality clash between a hugely successful sport’s person and his sports manager. Hope you like it…

Title: Love Off the Field

“Aren’t you the luckiest girl in this world?” Aryan smirked as he pulled out a chair.

Shanaya lifted her head and looked up. Her eyes landed on an outstandingly gorgeous man, and a lump formed in her throat. “Ex…cuse…me…” She fumbled trying hard to swallow the bite of her vegetable sandwich.

“Water?” He raised the glass of water seating next to her.

“Thanks…” She sipped some water from the glass and placed it back on the table, gathering her strewn thoughts.

She had been in awe since she was appointed as the sports manager of Aryan Malik.

The young and dashing captain of the Indian Cricket Team was quite a player off the field as well. With a deeply dimpled smile and 6 feet tall frame, he could make any woman’s imagination run wild. However, Shanaya Khanna was not like any other girl.

It was her oozing confidence that swept Aryan off his feet. Their first meeting and he lost his heart to her. But aware of Aryan’s womanizing habits, she maintained a professional distance between them, no matter how hard Aryan tried to woo her.

“You’re ten minutes late.” She adjusted her glasses on her thin straight nose and looked in his direction only to find him staring at her, smile dangling at the corners of his lips.

“I’m flattered. I was an hour away and you started missing me.”

“We expect your cooperation in making things better.”

Romantic Short Stories: Love Off the Field, mariyamhasnain.com“I’m all yours Miss, do whatever you want.” He stretched his back against his chair and widened his arms. The chiseled expanse of his chest peeked through the translucent fabric of his sports T-shirt.

Shanaya was in her prime and Aryan’s nearness was causing some serious heart palpitations and gasping at her end.

She tried to control her rapid heart beat concentrating on the things she needed to discuss with him.

“So, let’s begin. You gotta work on your diet and exercise routine. I think you’re not paying proper attention to types of food you take. From now on, no oily and starchy food. Only proteins. And yeah, we need to work on building a good boy image of yours in the media.” She scribbled something on her notepad.

“We need to work on your sleeping and waking up cycle. Looks like you’re spending a little too much time outdoors, sleeping late at nights, and missing morning practice sessions..”

But, I need to seriously work on addressing those sparks that are flowing in between us, Miss.

“Yeah, sometimes it gets late. You know…” he chuckled as he thought about kindling a relationship between him and Shanaya.

“No late nights from now on.”

He peeked inside her eyes as he leaned closer. “Okay, only on one condition.”

“You can’t Mr. Malik.  You can’t bind me with your nonsense conditions.” She stuttered.

“Okay, consider it as a request. Consider this as my first step towards a good boy image. Am I talking sense now Ms. Khanna?” He whispered.

Musk surrounded her as he came even closer and brushed some loose strands of hair of her face, tucking them behind her ears.  “I want to take you out.”

“Okay. Just once.” Her lips fumbled as her heart galloped hard against her chest.

He commanded. “Just once a week.”

~End~

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Romantic Short Stories: Just Say Yes!

Hello, Friends! Well, I couldn’t keep myself from writing romantic short stories. Last week, I wrote two short stories. One for a contest and one for you. So, here’s your treat:

Title: Just Say Yes!

Tia Shumosky had a lustful eye for the Belmont Girls’ High School football coach.

The long-legged, brown-eyed Darcy was every girl’s eye candy. And Tia knew it. Though she never devoured Darcy’s sex appeal, his curious glances at her in the middle of the practice sessions often raced her heartbeat.

Tia was not a shy girl. Bold and confident, she was the vice-captain of her football team.

The only thing that stopped Tia from approaching Darcy was their age gap. Tia was a young 16-year-old teenager, while Darcy was in his late twenties, perhaps pushing to thirties, and a single dad.

Though their age gap never bothered Tia, she always remained apprehensive about Darcy’s thinking process. Besides that, Mrs. Bennett, the divorced psychology professor who always buzzed around Darcy, also served as a major obstacle in the creation of something more than just a pupil–trainer thing between Tia and Darcy.

Tia wiped a hand over her sweaty brow, stuffed her towel in her sports bag, and tightened her shoelaces.

It’s now or never. I will ask him today.

She sipped water from her tumbler, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and headed to where Darcy was relaxing after an adrenaline-pumping football session.

“How are you, Mr. Darcy?”

He gazed at her, his eyes crinkling under the beaming sun. “Ms. Shumosky. You’re still here? Don’t have classes today?”

“Yeah . . . I was . . . kind of . . .”

He smiled as he sensed the shakiness of her voice. “Yeah, you were . . . kind of . . . what, Ms. Shumosky?”

Oh, come on, Tia. Ask him. It’s now or never.

“Actually, as you know, today was the last day of our football practice session. From tomorrow onwards, exams are starting, and then holidays . . .”

“Yeah . . . so . . . that happens every year. Nothing new in that, Ms. Shumosky.”

“Actually, Mr. Darcy, I was thinking if I can . . . I mean, if you can take me . . . I mean, if we can go out somewhere. I don’t know when I see you next.”

He smiled as he rolled up the white socks on his firm calves. “Next year, Ms. Shumosky. We’ll meet at the start of the next sports session.”

She muttered under her breath. “If you know I’m graduating this year.”

“Oh . . . I see.”

His narrow eyes landed on Tia, and her heart skipped a beat. “Do you wanna go on a date with me before your graduation?”

“Kind of . . . only if you want.”

He rubbed a hand over his chiseled jaw and smiled. “Why don’t you come home, and I’ll cook something for you . . .”

“Oh, that’s great, Mr. Darcy.” Her heart raced as butterflies fluttered harder in her belly.

“Cool. So, today in the evening. Dinner time? Will that be fine with you?”

She bubbled with a wide grin. “Perfect . . . I’ll be there at six.”

“Sure . . . see you in the evening.”

***

“Maggie, she’s your new ballet teacher.”

Darcy smiled as he introduced his five-year-old daughter to Tia.

“I’m sorry, Tia, I was trying to ask you this for a long time. It would be great if you can teach ballet to Maggie. I hope you won’t mind that.”

A mixture of nervousness and excitement washed over her.

Wow . . . I hit the jackpot.

“No . . . not at all, Mr. Darcy. I would love to. It would be great if I can help her learn to dance. She’s so young. This is the perfect time for a start.”

Tia was on cloud nine when Darcy and Maggie dropped her home after dinner.

She couldn’t realize that Darcy wanted to see her every day. Ballet was just an excuse. He wanted Tia to spend time with his daughter so they would get to know each other, and who knew, this could lay the foundation of a new relationship between Tia and Darcy. Something more than just a pupil–trainer thing.

~End~

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If you like this…You will love reading “Hearts and Kisses” a collection of 11 lovely short stories! Click the link below for a preview right now! ⤵️
Hearts & Kisses : Lovely Flashes of Romance

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Romantic Short Stories: Primal Desires

Hi, Friends!. Love You All. I hope you enjoyed your weekend and now looking forward to a new week. How about starting the new week by reading some romantic short stories. This week’s love short deals with the complex emotion of Lust. Perhaps Love. Perhaps both. You decide 🙂

Title: Primal Desires

“Are you nuts?” Shikha pushed all the stray hairs off her face back into a tight bun. “No way, he’s going to stay with us. Not when you’ll be not home.” She then looked away, glancing at the fresh lilies blooming in the green lawns of their house.

“He’s my childhood buddy. I can’t say no. It’s just a matter of a few days. Once the paperwork is done, he will be off.”

“Can’t you cancel your trip or can’t you book a hotel room for him?”

“Try to understand babes. Raghav is not just a friend. He’s much more than that.”

“I know. He was your emotional support pillar, but things are different now.” She arched her eyebrows as she flipped through the pages of the women’s magazine. “Fine. If you can’t understand, let’s get this straight—I’m not going to stay with a stranger especially when my husband is away.”

“Please sweetheart. I really need this favor from you. Raghav is a cool guy, and he’s not a stranger. You have seen his photographs and even talked to him. Remember, when he called me on the wedding night.” Vikas crawled closer to her  on the couch.

“Yeah, I remember, but that was just a formal call. He just congratulated us. That’s all. The truth is that I don’t know him. I mean if he’s going to stay with me, he will definitely eat, sleep, and do all the things that he does.”

“Of course. How can you stop the person of not doing his daily activities of living?” Vikas cocked a brow.

“So, what does he eat?”

“He’s not that picky. Anything with chicken will do. I will fill the refrigerator with an extra supply of chicken and beer for you two.”

Vikas’ gentle persuasion was flawless, and he finally succeeded in melting the ice of Shikha’s heart. She agreed to let Vikas’ childhood friend Raghav stay at their house for a week while Vikas was off to the US.

***

“Coming…” The doorbell ranged the third time. Shikha ran to the door, wrapping her wet hair in a towel.

“I’m sorry…was in the shower…Please come in,” she said, her faint smile vanishing. Her eyes fixed on a 6 feet tall hunk, an owner of a sculpted body that he hid underneath a white creased shirt and khaki pants, standing next to Vikas.

Raghav never looked that sexy in the snaps. Perhaps, that were the entire old ones I saw. He’s a grown up man now. A man with bulging biceps and tattoos. No wonder why he didn’t marry until now. Perhaps, he is a player. A man who always plays with women takes them to his bed but never gets involved in a relationship.

Anyways, who the fuck cares. He’s not going to stay here for any longer. It’s just a matter of seven days. All I need is to feed him good food, take him around the city, talk to him politely while he finishes his work in the town, and finally leaves the house.

Shikha assured herself that Raghav’s visit was not going to make any difference to her life as she arranged the table for lunch. However, she couldn’t stop herself looking at Raghav, devouring his intoxicating appeal.

That evening, Vikas left for the US leaving his wife alone in the company of his old childhood friend for a complete one week.

***

One evening…

“So what do you do?”

“Me. nothing. Just cooking, sleeping, watching TV that’s all.”

“You don’t have any hobby?”

“I never thought about it.”

“Never thought about it?” He chuckled. The sound of his snicker sent shivers of excitement all through her spine. And, boy, those vivid brown eyes, sexy enough to disturb all the sleeping butterflies in her stomach.

“I mean…Yeah…I used to make soft toys for kids when I was young. I mean it was long before getting married.”

“For kids?”

“For kids of the maids who would work in our society.”

“I see, and you used to gift them?”

“Yeah. Right.”

“That’s pretty adorable. I mean who the damn cares about these things.” His lips set in a grim line as he looked down the carpet of the living room. The air was heavy. There was this constant sound of raindrops falling on the tin roofing of the backyard. He looked sad, vulnerable, almost on the edge of shedding tears.

Vikas told her that Raghav was the son of a woman who used to work as a housemaid in their palatial residence. It was Vikas’s parents who helped Raghav’s mom to get him educated.

For a moment, she thought of going close to him and putting her hand on his, but she restrained. Restrained her from looking at him. Teardrops slid from the corner of her eyes. She couldn’t understand why she felt that way. A few days with this man and her world had changed. She never felt the intense magnetism towards any man she felt for Raghav.

“What do you do?” She broke the ensuing stillness of the rainy evening.

“I make sculptures?”

“Sculptures? You’re a sculptor?”

“Yeah…You guessed it right.”

“Interesting. So what do you sculpt?”

“Anything. I mean anything that fascinates me.”

“And, things that don’t fascinate you. Do you still sculpt them?”

“It depends. If I have to do it for a client. I once sculpted a fat businessman with fairly big mustaches, and I got sixty thousand bucks for that.”

“OK. Deal. You will make my sculpture, and because I’m not that fascinating, I’ll pay you for that.” She smiled.

“Who says you’re not fascinating?” He chortled.

His words electrified Shikha’s entire being. Hot desires grew from inside, making her cheeks blush. She cast her eyes downward, no words escaping from her mouth.

***

“Can’t you sit still…I’m shaping the features. And, please brush that hair away from your face.” Raghav’s voice was soft yet commanding enough to make Shikha’s heart race.

“No, no, not that…Oh, okay, just let me do it for you.”

As he came close, his body warmth floated around her. The brush of his fingers, all clay on them, on his forehead, and a shiver ran down her spine. Butterflies fluttered harder. Almost ready to tear her stomach. Her heart thumped even harder making it difficult for her to breathe. A choking feeling couldn’t let her inhale oxygen. All, she could inhale was the musky fragrance of his cologne as he stood just an inch away from her. His broad chest exposed in a blue vest, sweat drops traveling from his temple to his Adam’s apples before touching down the chisels of his gorgeous chest.

Oh! God! I want to breathe, and this man is not letting me do that. I will die if he doesn’t go away in another 10 seconds.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” She pushed Raghav in his chest and scurried past him, darting out of the outhouse.

Romantic Short Stories: Primal Desires, www.mariyamhasnain.com

“What’s wrong with you? It’s half done. Just a matter of few more hours.”

“I can’t sit still for that long. It’s okay. Just leave me alone. Just go.”

She could sense his presence behind her.

“Can’t sit for long or you can’t have me near you?”

His words pounded her heart, shattering it into pieces with each piece saying – yes you’re the one I ever longed for.

“Why are you here? Finish your damn paperwork and leave. Please go away.” She smoldered as she wiped her tears.

“Shikha…”

His low husky voice. Her name on his tongue worked like an aphrodisiac, igniting the fire more intense than ever before.

“Are you falling for me?”

She didn’t reply, tears making her vision blurry, her heart sinking, her lungs laboring for air.

“Aw, shucks, I can’t believe this.”

With that, he turned his back. And the next moment, he was gone out of her room.

20 minutes passed by

Perhaps, 30

Probably, an hour

“Raghav…” She cried like a kid as she searched for him everywhere in the house.

“Raghav. Where are you?”

“I’m here.” He came out of the guestroom, hauling his suitcase behind him.

“You can’t go away. Can’t leave me like this.”

“What do you want from me?” He came closer and looked in her eyes. “It’s lust Shikha, nothing else.”

“It’s not lust. If it were, I would not have wept that night when I saw tears in your eyes. Your presence, your nearness, your touch bring a hurricane of feelings. Feeling unknown to me. Feelings I’ve never had before. Feelings I want to melt into, fade into, dissolve into finishing my entire being. Being with you is like putting me on fire and asking you to leave is like letting that fire burn me.”

“You’re my friend’s wife Shikha, and I can’t break that trust. You understand. I can’t break that trust.” His grip hardened on her shoulders as he tried not to reveal his vulnerable side. The side he kept hidden from her, feelings that were burning him too, inside out.

“Don’t hurt me if you can’t love me.” She shoved his hands off her shoulders and turned around. “You should be gone when I come out.” And, she rushed to her bedroom, not wanting to see him leave.

Again, she could sense him standing behind her. His hand on her waist made its way under her shirt, pleasure bubbles forming inside her skin. His touch on her flat belly sparked thousands of volts of electric current. She closed her eyes to dissolve, to melt, to finish in the heat that dissipated from his body. Her head tilted backward, her lips parting in anticipation.

The touch of their lips kindled a fire. A fire that ignited both the bodies. Flames ready to burn them alive, turn them into ashes, a heap of slag, had they not extinguished them, doused them, smothered them succumbing to their primal desires. Love, Lust, Whatever.

***

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Romantic Short Stories: Love Me Baby

Hey folks! It’s Monday and guess what. Today, I’m not posting a flash but an excerpt from my sweet romantic novelette – Love Me Baby. This short story is my favorite of all the romantic short stories or love flashes I’ve written till now.

Hope you like it!

An Excerpt From Love Me Baby

I reached the studio on time. As I noticed the black gleaming sedan standing in the parking alley, my eyes gleamed with joy.

“Oh… So he’s early today,” I murmured, and a tingle of blush washed over my cheeks. I located an empty spot and squeezed my Nissan in between two giant SUVs. Stepping out of the car, I made my way to the exit. My heart thumped harder against my chest. It raced at the greatest speed.

What’s this happening? Guys tried hard to seduce me but I flipped them off. I broke up several times, but I never cried on my failed relationships. Why I’m so nervy and euphoric? I quizzed myself.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t realize when I reached the main entrance of the Alan’s Photography studio. I raised my head and glanced at his name.

“Alan,” I whispered his name under my breath, and his vibrantly stunning image flashed in front of my eyes.

It’s just one night, but it seems as if it’s been centuries since I last met him.

My steps took me to Alan’s cabin, and what I saw through the slanting window blinds melted my brain and shook me, soul.

Romantic Short Stories: Love Me Baby, www.mariyamhasnain.comJealousy and disappointment ran through my nerves, and a tinge of melancholy swept over my soul. I turned around and dashed out through the main exit, gasping for breath. I fell apart seeing Pixie in Alan’s arms. I left the studio and drove myself off from North Hollywood to reach my home in Downtown LA.

I pulled up in the parking zone of my commune and rushed to my flat on the fourth floor wiping at my eyes. I opened the door with my keys and straightaway headed to the sleeping room. Dropping myself on the bed, I buried my face in the pillow. Michelle laid on the adjacent bed, listening to music on her iPod. She instantly got up and wobbled my shoulder.

“Hey. What happened?” she asked.

“He loves that blond. I’m going back to Phoenix, to my mom. I need her.” I raised my head from the pillow and pushed my drooping body to a sitting position.

“How do you know he doesn’t love you? Did he tell you that?” she quizzed me again.

“I saw them hugging,” I replied, tears rolling down my cheeks.

“It could be a friendly embrace… a platonic one as he met her after a long while. She was off to the Bahamas, wasn’t she?” Michele said placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.

“I don’t know. It could be, but I can’t imagine any other woman in his arms. What if he doesn’t love me and loves that blond? I don’t want to bear the pain of unrequited unfulfilled love. I’m going away from him… so I can forget him and move on with my life.” Michelle couldn’t utter a word on my stern determination of leaving LA and going back to Phoenix.

I logged into my laptop and booked the next immediate flight to Phoenix. Packing my stuff into the giant suitcase, I was ready for my journey to my homeland. As I pictured myself hugging my mom and crying out my inner weakness and emotional turmoil on her shoulder, I felt calm and composed. The triumph of seeing my mom after so many months overshadowed the pain of heartbreak. I hugged Michelle and kissed her slippery cheeks before wishing her goodbye and came out of my apartment to hop onto my waiting taxicab.

****End of the Excerpt

Want to read the full story, download Free sample chapters of Love Me Baby

~MH

Romantic Short Stories, Week #4: Time Drain

Happy Monday Fam! Here comes one more flash from a pool of short romantic stories.

Do you often get late to work? Are traffic jams your worst enemy? Read on to know how traffic jam inspired June to do something creative.

Hope you like it.

Week# 4

Title: Time Drain

“Oh, shit, I’m late again.” June curved her lips, looking at her golden wristwatch. She desperately slammed the stairs one after another with the pointed four-inch heels of her sandals as she entered the small yet elegant twelfth-floor office of BB Advertising.

“God, please, save me the one last time. I can’t afford to lose this job.” She pushed open the door of Robert’s room, muttering under her breath.

“What a pleasant surprise, Ms. Pinto. You broke the record. You’re only forty-five minutes late today,” Robert drifted his stare from the documents lying in front of him to June’s sorry face, a mock sternness in his eyes.

“Actually, it’s the traffic jam. The city is getting overpopulated. With so many people giving birth to so many kids, the traffic is going to increase a hundredfold in the coming years, and you have to definitely think about the option of allowing your employees to work from home.”

“Well, thank you so much for your suggestions, and I really appreciate your logic behind the traffic jams. Anyways, we’re all set for the next meeting. Hope you’re ready with the presentation and the explanatory videos about the product.” He sauntered across the room and approached the door.

“Oh, yeah, I am. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes,” June stammered as she caught her breath, wondering whether she had put the pen drive back in her purse after completing the work, or just forgotten it at home.

“Great! Hope it’s short romantic stories, www.mariyamhasnain.comnot your last day with me. Perhaps the approval can save your life.” His face turned stiff as he pulled open the door. And the next moment, he was gone.

“Shit. The PD is not here,” June mumbled, as she checked her laptop bag and purse for the final time.

I need this job. I have to do something.

Think, June. Think!

Yes . . . I know how to do that. I hope Robert won’t find it offensive.

Perhaps he will. Perhaps not, if the client is impressed.

I don’t know.

 ***

When she reached the conference room, she noticed Robert, busy discussing the project details with the clients.

“Please, Ms. Pinto. I think you take charge from here. The stage is all yours.”

And with that, the bright blue LED screen welcomed her onto the stage.

Reflecting confidence, June defied her mental turbulence and walked across the room to reach the place where the LED panel was mounted. The cold air of the central air conditioning gave her chills in the sweltering heat of August. Her eyes darted to the TV screen and then to the sea of faces. All eyes were on her as if she was not human, but an alien descended from an obscure planet. Not even Mars. At least humans knew about Mars.

“A very good morning to all of you. I hope you all enjoyed your travel from your home or office or wherever you live to Big Bang Advertising. I really appreciate you all reaching here on time and conquering the traffic jams. I think you guys must be listening to Radio Mirchi traffic updates and wisely choosing your routes.”

“Ms. Pinto . . . come to the point. Put on the presentation,” Robert mumbled, his lips pursed and his broad jaw becoming even broader as anger and stress crept onto his face and creased his forehead.

“Oh! Yeah . . . I totally forgot why we are here. So, ladies and gentlemen, I’m going to show you something you’ve never seen before. Any guesses?”

Utter silence in the room.

“Here comes a rescuer for all women’s hair problems—Silk And Shine hair tonic. No matter who you are—a college girl, a working woman, a housewife, or a latecomer like me, Silk And Shine keeps you on time even when you don’t have time.

“Apply it on your wet hair, dry hair, or morning hair, and be the charm of everyone’s eyes—use Silk And Shine, and Be On Time.”

The blue LED screen still shone behind June’s back, with the AC sending cold waves to her body.

“We’re expecting the video and the presentation, not a live act. But it was good. We liked it. I think we can work on this.” A middle-aged, short-haired lady from the client’s panel smiled before clapping and nodding her approval.

***

“Good, you did it well.”

“Thanks, Robert. I hope it’s not my last day in the office.”

“I want to see you on time.”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely.”

“In the evening. Six. Sharp. At Lamps.”

“What?”

“Be on time, Ms. Pinto. Be on time,” he gave a chortle, before entering his room.

~End~

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Romantic Short Stories Week #3: Ex-flames

Here come’s Monday, and the time is 11:30 IST. And now as we march to a new month, here’s another short romantic story. This week’s flash is about rekindling the lost love. Hope you like it.

Week #3

Title: Ex-flames

I sit on the sofa and gaze out the window. Thick Gulmohar trees laden with the new foliage sway under the golden sun.

Today is going to be my last day in Vivek’s house. I’m going to embrace a new life. He did not react much when I mentioned him that we need to separate our ways. Anyways, he does not want kids yet, and I wonder if he just wants to remain in the second stage all his life.

Chirps of sparrows play a soothing serenade. Thin white clouds shift in the sky as the cold morning breeze blows in through the front window of the living room. A pair of pigeon perches on the window sill, one holding a dry twig in his beak.

“Life has four stages – the first stage where a person is completely dependent on others. It is the childhood stage.

The second stage is where a person discovers himself. It’s a stage of trial and error. He tries, learns from his mistakes, and makes choices. He starts believing in himself but also believes in materialistic success to be happy – money, wealth, accolades.

The third stage is when an individual thinks about leaving a legacy. It could be anything – a breakthrough innovation, an extraordinary product, or a happy adorable family.

And finally, stage four which is all about holding on what a person has achieved.”

I still remember these lines of Mr. Mathews. He used to teach us Philosophy in college. He was a character. Long hair with streaks of silver. The overgrown beard that he rarely used to trim. Irrespective of the trends, he would always wear beige colored baggy pants and a loose T-shirt. He perhaps was in his late forties, but his attire and appearance made him look ten years older than his actual age.

short romantic stories,mariyamhasnain.comThe fragrant wind blowing into the room caresses my cheeks bringing back some more old memories. Memories – I try to forget, erase, burn but even after so many years, they are still fresh in my mind.

As soon as I close my eyes and rest my head against the back of the couch, a pair of deep dark eyes shines in the abyss. Teenage love is not easy to forget.

His name, image, touch everything remain so fresh in my mind.

It’s been more than ten years being married to Vivek, but there has been something always amiss.

I wonder if rekindling the lost love is a good idea. Anyways, I won’t be having Vivek with me tonight.

I trace Ray on Facebook. And, within a couple of minutes, he accepts my friend request asking my whereabouts.

He never married. I can’t deny I still love Ray and so he. Oh my God how we have so much craving for each other even when ten years have passed. The flames of unfulfilled love still burn our souls, and we don’t have to convince each other of anything or reason anything. We just want to be together.

********

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Romantic Short Stories Week #2: How to Lose a Guy

Here come’s Monday, and the time is 11:30 IST. A new week and a new short romantic story. This week’s flash is something mild and lighthearted. Hope you like it.

Week #2

Title: How to Lose a Guy

“I love him, I love him not.

“I love him, I love him not.

“Oh, Shit, I love him. Do I really love him?

“I don’t know. It’s just been three months, and his possessiveness has started bothering me. What to do with this Yasir named adhesive gel?”

Ezra asked Jasmine as she irritatingly plucked the last of the rose petal and tossed the twig in the overgrown wild bushes of the campus backyard.

“I think you better dump him and walk off. Three months! I swear I can’t go beyond one month with the same guy.” Jasmine raised her eyebrows taking a sip of her diet Coke.

“I know dear with so many attractive faces roaming around, it’s not wise to stick with a single guy. But, there should be a reason for the breakup. And, all my breakup skills fail when it comes to Yasir.” Ezra threaded her hair with her fingers leaning against the back of the backyard bench.

Romantic Short Stories: Your Weekly Dose of Flash Fiction, Week #2“He’s a mind controller it seems. Why don’t you ask him to meet you at a coffee shop and then turn up with a hot-looking guy, you know.” Jasmine nibbled on her sandwich as she handed the Coke can to Ezra.

“Foolish. Think something else,” Ezra said before sipping the cold drink.

“Okay…How about this – You go with him but drool over other hot-looking dudes. I’m sure he’ll dump you. I’m telling you – this trick works amazingly well with possessive assholes.”

“This sounds awful.”

“Fine, the last – you kiss his best friend making sure he watches you while you do the act.”

“I can’t kiss his best friend.” Ezra painfully curved her lips.

“Why?”

“Because Chirag has chapped lips, and he also suffers from gingivitis. Yasir told me once. Yuck!”

“Oh! God save his girlfriend from getting bleeding gums.” Jasmine took a deep breath as she grabbed the Coke can from Ezra.

Bring Bring

Ezra’s cell phone vibrated in her purse.

“Talk of the devil and the devil’s here. It’s Chirag,” Ezra muttered as she swiped the cell phone to attend Chirag’s call.

“What? How? Where?” She fired a series of questions on the caller as she rose to her feet and ran towards the main college premises.

“Yeah, I’m coming where is he?” Keeping the cell phone closer to her ear, she hastily ran to the interior courtyard while Jasmine tailed her till the end of the crowded hallway.

“What happened? You’re running like a shepherd boy who has lost all his sheep in the jungle.” Jasmine called her from behind.

“Yasir not well. He met with an accident. He’s sitting in the canteen.”

“Canteen?,” Jasmine’s eyes narrowed and her eyebrows grew V. “He should be in the hospital. What is he doing in the canteen? Eating samosas huh?”

“It’s a minor one silly. I need to go see him.”

“This is the time silly. Don’t bother and he’ll think you don’t care and will finally leave you.”

“This isn’t the time Jass. Hope he’s alright.” Her eyes glazed as she strode towards the college canteen.

********

Did you like what you read? Can you suggest me a prompt for the next week’s flash? Please leave a reply, and I’ll try to write on the suggested prompt.

Want to download some of my FREE romantic short stories – Click Here

~MH

Romantic Short Stories: A Weekly Dose of Flash Fiction

No lengthy scenes and descriptions. Just a quick read that takes no more than 5 minutes of yours. From now on, I’ll be posting similar kind of flash fiction every Monday 11:30 AM IST. So, if you’re a lover of short romantic stories, stay tuned.

Week – 1

Title: A U-Turn

Rains lashed onto my bare back as I scooped up her fragile frame and carried her out of the car. Perhaps, she’d passed out, couldn’t endure the pain she suffered.

Perhaps, she just pretended to be asleep. Never wanted to face the reality. Never wanted to see the man who left her alone in the dark of the night.

All alone, I didn’t know how long she waited for me.

Not bothering to look at her exposed thighs hidden scantily under my shirt, I made my way to the front door of the house.

She whined under the fur blanket as I cleaned the scars and bruises with warm water.

Signs of sufferings, a brutal assault. Someone had robbed my soul, assaulted the woman I loved the most.

Fuck.

I couldn’t protect her.

Monsters hidden underneath human skin ran away when I reached the spot where I left her.

A casual argument.

I didn’t realize when it transformed into a battle of sexes. Rants of feminism and gender equality. She forced me to pull over.

I could have stopped her, could have apologized. But, I did nothing when she got out of the car.

Instead of waiting for her to cool down, I drove away. It was an hour later I realized my mistake and took a U-turn in haste.

She quivered inside the blanket. Her whimpers communicated the trauma she bore on her soul.

“I’m here baby,” I whispered in her ear, caressing the entangled mess of her hair.

She opened her eyes.

Tears slid down the corners of her eyes.

“I lost it. I struggled but I lost it. They were four.” Her words pierced needles in my ears, shredding my skin and exposing the bones underneath.

“Calm down sweetie. You need rest. Shall I get something for you? How about a cup of hot chocolate.”

“I need you. Promise me you’ll never leave me again even when I tell you to go away. Even when I fight with you. Promise me you’ll tackle my tantrums. Hold me in your arms when I’m angry. Kiss me when I cry.”

“I Promise sweetheart. Do I deserve an apology?” I asked my gaze dipping to the carpet.

She held my hands. “Have you informed the cops?”

“Not yet. Do you want to do it now or we can go tomorrow,” I replied meeting her gaze.

Romantic Short Stories: A Weekly Dose of Flash Fiction, mariyamhasnain.com“Thanks,” she said, her eyes glistening.

“Thanks for what?”

“I thought you perhaps don’t want to involve the police because of your reputation of a clean guy. It could be hard for you at work. Your social life. Your friends. They will question.”

“Nothing’s more important than you. Life’s all about taking a U-turn and starting afresh. Please allow me to take that turn where I’m just a teenage boy who is deeply madly in love with a girl.”

She looked in my eyes as my grip tightened on her hand.

“I’ll get some hot chocolate for us,” I said holding back my tears.

Men don’t cry, do they?

***********

Did you like what you read? Want to download some FREE romantic short stories – Click Here

~MH