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Life After You

Life After You

It was compensation he owed my parents. The graves were luxurious and grand, and he'd said this was the first step in repaying me for all I'd done. But apparently, it was also the last step. When I arrived at the cemetery, I did not expect the graves to look completely unrecognizable. Now, a mansion stood where my parents lay. I stumbled out of my car and frantically pressed the doorbell, desperate to know what had happened. The next second, I heard a familiar, sweet voice. "Eli, you're back already? Did you get them already?"
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Daydream

Daydream

"Maybe before I get into an accident, then I will enthusiastically say yes. But after being in Kim Hana's body, to be honest ... I feel weird thinking about the United States with my current body. '' Ha Mino nodded slowly, understanding what Lee Umji might be feeling. ''Me too at first. What's more ... that's where Kim Hana truly left this world. '' Lee Umji looked closely at Ha Mino. He could see the sad expression on the man's face. ''Are you visited her grave?" ''Yes, once and ... I don't think I can do it anymore." The conversation between the two then stopped after the atmosphere turned dark and sad when discussing Kim Hana's death. Lee Umji and Ha Mino then moved to the sofa in front o
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Tehzeeb

Tehzeeb

Hajiya Kaltumi joined them in crying, it's was Baba that did everything for the corpse to be taken to there house for Aisha's final bath before she will be be taken to her destination ___________________________ Kulunafsin Zayikatul maut (Every Living Soul Shall Taste Death) Who knows this would be Aisha's end. That's how life is death does not care who you are, where you are, when or how to take you. Let's forget about this Earth and Strive for the hereafter
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My Revenge After Death

My Revenge After Death

He was forced to sell his expensive cars and luxury belongings just to pay the massive legal fees and damages. Within months, Marcus had nothing left. He lived in a tiny apartment on the wrong side of town, doing manual labor to survive. But the physical hardship was nothing compared to the guilt eating him alive. Marcus spent every free moment frantically searching for my final resting place. He drove to every cemetery in the state, looking for my grave. He wanted to kneel before my tombstone and beg for forgiveness. He had practiced the words a thousand times. "Aria, I was wrong. I was so completely wrong. Please forgive me."
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Buried Love: My Posthumous Revenge

Buried Love: My Posthumous Revenge

She dragged herself up, flagged down a cab, and headed straight over. She stumbled through the paths until she arrived at my grave. The second she saw my gravestone, she collapsed before it and whispered, "This is all my fault. I cursed you with a horrible death…" I crouched beside her and said, "This isn't your fault, but mine." "Were you in pain when you died?" she asked. "Well, yes. It did hurt a little," I replied. "Can't you come out here and visit? I want to see you so badly…" she said between sobs.
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REBORN AFTER DEATH

REBORN AFTER DEATH

"I can't believe what I have done. I took a life, your life, unjustly." I knelt down beside him, my heart heavy with the weight of forgiveness and compassion. "Rowland, I understand your pain and regret," I whispered, my voice filled with empathy. "But we can't change the past. What matters now is how we move forward, how we strive to make amends."
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Her Rebirth , His Regret

Her Rebirth , His Regret

They cornered me on a lonely road and put a silver bullet in my chest. As I bled to death, Isolde showed up and celebrated getting rid of me. Before I died, I raised my head to the full moon and begged the Moon Goddess for a second chance—if it was even possible. A second chance to make everything right. A second chance to not love blindly and trust foolishly. A second chance to pay back every single one of them. To burn them all down. And most importantly, I begged her to let me remember everything this time. I had died the exact same way nine times before—but I never remembered any of it… until the moment Isolde mocked me as I bled out.
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Three Years Later, They Finally Regretted It

Three Years Later, They Finally Regretted It

The fragments inside my head began to churn. The warm memories from before I turned fourteen — Mom's gentle hugs, Dad lifting me onto his shoulders, Jack sneaking me snacks — And the dark memories from those three years. That hard slap. The endless darkness of the Quiet Room. The blisters on my arms. Jack's poisoned words: "Go kill yourself." All the pain, all the anger, all the grief that had been crushed down for three years — it broke through the dam labeled "absolute obedience" like a flood.
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THE CURSED NECKLACE

THE CURSED NECKLACE

He cried for the shared blood, for the broken bond, for the tragic, wasted end of a life that had been so intertwined with his own. He didn't know how long he stood there, lost in his memories, but when he finally went back inside, his face was clear. The tears had washed away the last of the bitterness, leaving behind a quiet acceptance. The past was buried. It was time to live. He walked back into the warmth of the house, back to his family, ready to build a future on the ashes of the past.
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The Goodbye he regretted

The Goodbye he regretted

"I only wanted you to be happy. That's why I forced the marriage. I never expected this boy to treat you so coldly. I'm so sorry..." "Don't say that, Grandmother. Everything happens for a reason, and I've completely let the past go," Maureen insisted gently. Internally, it took everything she had to say it. She was closing the door on thirteen years of unrequited infatuation, and only she knew how agonizing that detachment really was. But Damien had been dead-set on leaving; begging would have only stripped her of her remaining dignity, and she refused to turn into a bitter, resentful woman just to beg for a man’s heart.
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Frequently Asked Questions

The novel 'Shehr-e-Zaat' is a masterpiece by the legendary Urdu writer Mumtaz Mufti. His writing style is deeply philosophical, blending Sufi mysticism with modern existential dilemmas, which makes 'Shehr-e-Zaat' such a transformative read. Mufti’s portrayal of the protagonist’s spiritual journey feels almost autobiographical, as if he poured his own quest for meaning into the pages. The way he dissects human vanity and the illusion of worldly attachments still gives me chills—it’s a book that lingers long after you finish it.

What’s fascinating is how Mufti’s personal evolution mirrored his work. Initially a vocal critic of Sufism, he later became one of its most eloquent advocates, and 'Shehr-e-Zaat' captures that shift beautifully. If you haven’t read his other works like 'Ali Pur Ka Aeeli' or 'Labbaik,' they’re worth exploring for their raw honesty and wit. His daughter, Aasia Mufti, also carried forward his literary legacy, but 'Shehr-e-Zaat' remains his crowning achievement in my eyes.

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