The Quiet Hunger Between Heartbeats by Abrar Nayeem Chowdhury. The Best Love Poem

Poem: The Quiet Hunger Between Heartbeats by Abrar Nayeem.

I fell for you the way silence learns to sing,
In the pause between daylight and regret.
Your smile held a promise it didn’t explain,
And my soul signed its name without reading the debt.

Your presence is heat without fire or flame,
A slow-burning want dressed as grace.
I ache where your shadow forgets my name,
Still I worship the air you leave in its place.

I love you like modern hearts do—afraid,

With hands half-open, ready to lose.

Desire wrapped in wounds we never displayed,

Craving truth, yet scared of its bruise.

If loving you is pain, let it be deep and clean,
Like rain that knows where to fall.
I want you not for what we could have been,
But for the ruin I chose—beautiful, raw, and whole.

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Chapter 15: The Defiance of a Mortal. Supernatural & Dark Fantasy Manga Web Novel - Crimson High: The Blood Pact by Abrar Nayeem Chowdhury

The Loom trembled. The battlefield was frozen in silence—no wind, no movement, no breath. The Oldest Weaver was gone, unwritten by a force older than existence, a force that now stood face-to-face with the one who had dared to rewrite fate itself. The Forgotten Weaver, formless and eternal, had posed a single question: "Will you give it back?" And now, all of creation waited for Riku Kurobane’s answer. Riku’s fingers curled into fists. His sigil pulsed, not with fear, but with the weight of choice. Kaito and Reina stood far behind him, barely able to stay upright in the gravity of the Forgotten Weaver’s presence. Kaito whispered, stunned: "Riku… You’re actually thinking of saying no?" Reina stepped forward, her voice shaking: "This thing isn’t just powerful—it’s beyond power. You can’t fight it. No one can." But Riku’s gaze didn’t waver. He stared up at the shifting, abstract form of the Forgotten Weaver and exhaled slowly. "I won’t ...

Chapters: 16-25. The Supernatural & Dark Fantasy Manga Web Novel - CRIMSON HIGH: THE BLOOD PACT by Abrar Nayeem Chowdhury

Chapter 16: A Thread to Cut, A Fate to Choose It was, indeed, a scene such as no mortal writer might compose with mere pen and ink—a realm torn asunder by the conflicts of gods and ghosts, of fate's architects and its would-be inheritors. The sky, now stripped of its azure grace, resembled a canvas of pale silk drenched in the remnants of a celestial inkpot. Ragged clouds, frayed at their edges like a lady’s well-worn lace shawl, floated aimlessly overhead, as if the heavens themselves observed this strange theatre of fate with breath held and threads fraying. A bitter wind swept through the ruins of Crimson High, tugging at fractured archways and whistling through the hollowed bones of towers, as if mourning the innocent design the world once bore. The ground lay veiled in soot and memory, and the very air was perfumed by ash and consequence. Riku Kurobane stood at the centre of this desolate court—unmoved by the flickering of time around him, unflinching beneath the unravellin...

The Forbidden Haunts: A Dare into the Darkness – Paranormal Adventure Thriller | Chapter 1: Unraveling the Mystery of Rajasthan’s Bhangarh Fort | Part D: SCREW THIS! WE’RE LEAVING—RIGHT NOW!” | The Best Thriller Novel

Part D: SCREW THIS! WE’RE LEAVING—RIGHT NOW! Alan’s entire body was locked in place. His breath hitched in his throat, his muscles refusing to obey his desperate urge to run. The hand gripping his wrist was ice-cold, its tiny fingers unnaturally tight, as if made of stone. His heartbeat pounded in his ears like a war drum. Thud. Thud. Thud. His vision blurred for a moment, his mind screaming at him to look at whatever had grabbed him. But something deep inside warned him—don’t turn around. Don’t look. Ava and Adib stood frozen, their faces pale as they stared at his arm. Ava: (whispering) "Alan… who is that?" Alan tried to respond, but his voice failed him. The air around him felt heavier like he was sinking into an invisible abyss. Then, the whisper came again. Child’s voice: "Stay with me…" The voice was soft, almost pleading, but there was something off about it—something wrong. It echoed inside his head, distorting like a broken radio signal. Alan’s fingers tw...

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