The road to success and the road to financial independence

hamed Jan. 23, 2024, 5:52 p.m.

He had always dreamed of becoming a writer, but he knew it was a risky career choice. He needed money to pay his bills, to support his family, to live a decent life. He couldn't afford to quit his job and pursue his passion.

So he decided to work hard and save up enough money to become financially independent. He thought that once he had enough savings, he could quit his job and focus on his writing. He thought that was the road to success.

But he soon realized that saving money was not easy. He had to work long hours, deal with stress, and sacrifice his hobbies and leisure. He had to postpone his dreams and put them on hold. He thought that was the road to financial independence.

He became frustrated and unhappy. He felt like he was trapped in a vicious cycle. He wondered if he would …

A Curtain Divides the World - Chapter 7: "Revolution in the Library"

dehongi Jan. 17, 2025, 6:44 p.m.

Arash had never thought of the school library as a particularly thrilling place. Sure, it was a quiet refuge from the chaos of his classmates’ shouting matches and pencil wars, but it was mostly just rows of dusty books, ruled over by the ever-frowning librarian, Mr. Jalali.
But one day, everything changed.
It started when Kian, who was supposed to be reading about physics, elbowed Arash and whispered, “Psst! Look at this.”
Arash looked over. Kian was holding a thin, unassuming book. The cover was simple, with a flower and a woman’s name scrawled elegantly across it: "Parinoush Saniee."
“A book by a woman?” Arash asked, his voice a mix of surprise and awe.
“Yeah,” Kian said, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Do you think we’re even allowed to read this?”
“Why wouldn’t we be?”
Kian raised an eyebrow. “Because it’s by her! You know… a girl.”
Arash smirked but couldn’t deny his curiosity. Growing up, …

Forbidden Touch

hamed Jan. 10, 2025, 6:13 p.m.

The city was silent, save for the soft hum of the surveillance drones circling above, their metallic wings cutting through the heavy air like ghosts. Aeliana stood at the edge of the park, her fingers trembling as they brushed against the cool stone bench. Every movement felt exposed in this world, every glance, every breath, as though the walls of control were closing in tighter with every passing second.

She glanced around. There was no one in sight—just the empty paths, the closed-off playgrounds, the tall fences that surrounded everything. Public affection was forbidden, and the penalty for even a glance too lingering, a touch too intimate, was harsh. For generations, the government had ensured that love was something kept behind closed doors, behind locked windows. Anything more than a handshake, a nod, was a betrayal of the rules.

Aeliana felt the weight of the world press on her chest, …

Smoke Signals

hamed Jan. 12, 2025, 5:33 p.m.

The evacuation order came at 3 AM, but Sarah Henderson had been awake since midnight, watching the orange glow creep closer to Pine Valley. Twenty years in California had taught her to read the signs: the shifting winds, the ash coating her windshield, the nervous rustling of animals in the canyon.

"The Martinez family still hasn't left," her husband Mark said, lowering his binoculars. From their hillside home, they could see most of their neighbors loading cars and securing homes.

"Rosa won't leave without her mother's ashes," Sarah replied. "And she can't find them."

What Sarah didn't say was that she'd seen Rosa's teenage son, Miguel, hiding something in the old Peterson shed last week. The same shed where their neighbor, Mr. Peterson, had stored his "collection" before his death last spring. Everyone knew he'd been a hoarder, but nobody knew what he'd hoarded.

The fire sirens wailed closer. Sarah …

They loved each other still

dehongi Jan. 2, 2024, 6:53 p.m.

She had lost everything for him. Her family, her friends, her career, her dreams. She followed him across the world, supporting his ambitions, sharing his joys and sorrows, loving him unconditionally.

She thought they would grow old together, happy and content. She thought they had a bond that nothing could break. She thought she was the luckiest woman alive.

She was right.

He never left her, not even when he was diagnosed with a terminal illness, not even when he was in pain and suffering, not even when he had nothing left to give. He loved her with everything he had, everything he was, everything he could. He gave her his all.

She stayed with him, through thick and thin, through good and bad, through life and death. She cared for him, comforted him, cherished him. She gave him her all.

They spent their days in a small, cozy cottage, …

A Rocket of Her Own

hamed Jan. 17, 2025, 2:12 p.m.

Tasha sat cross-legged on the cracked pavement, staring at the grainy image on her tablet. The launch replayed again and again—Dr. Jeanette Epps, face calm and resolute beneath her helmet, ascending into the heavens. The first Black woman to live and work aboard the International Space Station.

“Why do you keep watching that?” her brother teased, bouncing a basketball on the uneven ground.

Tasha didn’t answer. She couldn’t pull her eyes away from the rocket, the plume of fire and smoke, the boundless sky swallowing the craft whole.

At school, they laughed when she said she wanted to be an astronaut. "You? In space? Dream smaller," the boys had jeered. Even her teacher had hesitated, then offered a patronizing, "Well, that’s ambitious, Tasha."

But watching Dr. Epps, she saw something else—proof.

That night, she pulled out the notebook she hid under her mattress. Across its pages, she’d drawn rockets, spacesuits, …

The Line in the Sand

hamed Jan. 14, 2025, 4:23 p.m.

Leila sat at her father’s kitchen table, the faint smell of tobacco clinging to the curtains. The radio hummed with angry voices, a populist politician railing against “elitist climate agendas.” Her father muttered in agreement as he stirred his tea.

“You know they want to take our jobs,” he said without looking at her. “Shut down the factories, ruin what little we’ve got left.”

Leila’s chest tightened. “That’s not true, Baba. The factories could transition to clean energy—there’s funding for that.”

Her father scoffed. “You’ve been reading too many of those articles again. Climate action is just a way for the rich to keep us poor.”

It wasn’t the first time they’d had this argument, but tonight felt heavier. Leila had been invited to speak at a town hall meeting tomorrow, to represent a grassroots climate initiative. She was proud of the work they were doing—installing …

A Curtain Divides the World - Chapter 1: "Boys, Boys, Boys"

dehongi Jan. 17, 2025, 6:37 p.m.

At Arash’s school, life was a testosterone-fueled symphony of chaos. Every day began with a thundering stampede as boys flooded the hallways, racing each other to class as if punctuality were a sport. Backpacks swung like pendulums, shoes screeched against the tiled floors, and someone, somewhere, was always yelling, “Last one to the classroom is a chicken!”
Arash usually wasn’t in the front of the pack—running wasn’t his thing—but he also refused to be the metaphorical chicken, so he always managed to come in somewhere in the middle. His classroom, Room 14, was a microcosm of every stereotype about boys you could imagine. There was Hamid, the self-proclaimed athlete, who carried a soccer ball everywhere like it was his firstborn child. Majid, the class clown, could turn even the dullest math lecture into a comedy sketch. And then there was Kian, Arash’s best friend, whose life goal seemed to be proving …

Five Floors Up

hamed Jan. 9, 2025, 5:58 p.m.

Every morning at 8:15, Elena and James rode the elevator together. Five floors of exquisite torture, sharing space with a stranger who felt anything but strange.
She noticed how he always pressed the button for her floor first. He noticed how she hummed Beatles songs under her breath.
Neither noticed they both wrote about each other in their journals each night.
Today was different. The elevator lurched, stopped between floors. Emergency lights cast shadows that made hiding glances impossible.
"I'm James," he said finally.
"I know," she replied. "Your coffee cup says it every morning."
"You're Elena. Your packages at the front desk."
"We're terrible at this, aren't we?"
An hour passed. They shared a protein bar from her purse, swapped stories about terrible first dates.
When maintenance finally arrived, they had dinner plans.
As they stepped out, Elena smiled. "You know, I've been taking the stairs down every evening."
"Funny," James grinned. "I just moved in last month. My apartment's …

Behind the Screens

hamed Jan. 15, 2025, 4:54 p.m.

Jenna stared at the screen, the cursor blinking like a reminder of everything she hadn’t done. It was 10 a.m., but it felt like a strange time, suspended somewhere between the days. The house was too quiet. She could hear the distant hum of the fridge, the soft click of her fingers on the keyboard. Outside, the world moved on—people still walked their dogs, kids played in the park—but inside, everything felt still.

It had been six months since the pandemic turned her office job into a remote one. At first, she had been excited. No more commutes. No more crowded trains or early mornings. She could wear sweatpants, sip coffee in peace, and get her work done from the comfort of her living room.

But now, everything was different. The novelty had worn off. Her days had become a blur of Zoom calls and emails, each one blending into …