Small Pleasures Novels & Stories

I sank onto the edge of my bunk, running a hand through my hair, replaying every damn second of her in my mind. That’s when the door creaked open. One of the village women—young, graceful—stepped in, balancing a tray. She said nothing, only bowed her head slightly as she crossed the room and set it down carefully by the bench. A plate of steaming food—seasoned grains, spiced meat roasted to perfection, a bowl of sweet fruit. A tall glass of milk stood beside it, chilled, beading with condensation. And tucked under the plate… a folded note.

SUMMER'S POV Pain greeted me before consciousness fully returned. Every breath felt like knives twisting between my ribs. My face throbbed where the bruises had bloomed overnight. I cracked open my good eye and stared at Amanda’s cracked ceiling, the faint glow of a streetlight bleeding through the thin curtains. Her small apartment smelled like instant noodles and cheap lavender air freshener—familiar and safe. For a moment, I wished I could just stay here, buried under the blanket she’d tucked around me.

"Back off, ladies! Leave this old man alone. It's not like you haven't seen others before!" But the more I tried to keep them away, the more enthusiastic they became. They even reached out to grab my shorts. "We've seen no other men around here! This place is practically a nunnery! There are no men!" They tugged at my shorts, but I tugged back even harder. "Wait, wait, don't do that, ladies! These shorts aren't thin—" There was a loud rip. My shorts were torn, revealing the large boxers underneath. Francine and her roommates gaped at my groin in awe.

But they stopped first amid the stalls where the vendors watched with hawk eyes, as sniggering folk wandered through large sacks and basins brimming with every sort of grain and dried pea that a mind could conjure. Liziwe waited as Susan made her bargains with the merchant, slipping her hand into the sack of split peas. The feel of it was some strange comfort; some new texture that massaged her bony fingers and made them conscious. She closed her eyes, and smiled. "Mistress, I've finished- let's continue?" Susan's bright voice interrupted her musings. "Yes," she replied, and they walked on. Deliberately, she slid her gloved hands into her pockets, the corners of her lips lifted upwards as sh

However, Khuraan knew that flowers should always be handled gently or else they lose the fragrance of love and the texture of beauty! ‘I should eat something sweet and cold to calm this beast.’ The man sighed and walked away towards the kitchen with a mild boner. All the Lancaster guests were supposed to stay in the manor that very night. And everyone had already scurried away to their room since it was past midnight.

When the waiters brought out buckets of instant noodles, the entire room fell silent. Every guest froze. Then, the whispers started. Their expressions turned strange, eyes full of disdain. My mother-in-law, Nancy Tucker, looked like she had just swallowed poison. As for me, I acted like nothing was wrong. I picked up the microphone and cheerfully waved to everyone to start eating. "What are you all waiting for? Go on, eat. Don't tell me none of these flavors suit your taste," I said.

“Yara… I know we’re taking things slowly, but… I just want you to know that every day I get to spend time with you, even in small ways, matters.” Her chest tightened, emotions fluttering in a way that made her both nervous and warm. “I appreciate that,” she said softly. “I do.” He looked at her, eyes steady. “And I promise, I’ll keep proving it. Every day, in whatever way you let me.” Her fingers brushed his accidentally—just a small touch as she reached for her cup. The contact lingered, unspoken yet electric. Jamal smiled softly, not moving his hand away. “Even the little things matter,” he said quietly.

A group of children ran past her. Laughing. One nearly slipped. Recovered dramatically. Then celebrated as though he'd conquered a mountain. Ama laughed softly. The child raised his arms victoriously. His friends cheered. The achievement was completely insignificant. And completely important. Because happiness often looked like that. Small. Unexpected. Ordinary. Not grand revelations. Not cosmic truths. Just moments. Collected over time. Built into a life. She resumed walking. Snowflakes settled on her coat. The city lights began appearing as evening approached.