Sadness clung to his weary face, like a dewdrop to a rose.

Without a second thought, Buddhiman jumped into the raging Tamor River.

On seeing Ghanashyam Bista, Aunt Kriti's heart jumped and her throat dried.

He doesn’t seem to be lost in the longings and aches of yesterdays nor does he seem worried about what tomorrow might bring.

An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Pooja blinked her eyes and looked at him in disbelief. Ghanashyam gave her a shrug. His indifference jarred her sensibilities even more.

Rajiv sat in utter disbelief, shocked and stoned. He did not utter a word. He took his car keys and rushed towards the parking lot.

Mr Sharma’s head was still throbbing with pain from the crash, and his stomach rumbled with fear.

The great detective, his hands clasped behind the back, stepped into the premises of Naxal park. He wore a large fedora hat and had a pipe sticking from the corner of his mouth. He scanned the park.

Whenever I used to carry my daughter in my arms, I used to think “Is there anything in this universe more beautiful than this?” My daughter cultivated an eternity of love within me. My life was full of bliss before, all of sudden, I blew everything off.

With him, her days floated by, buoyed by excitement and joy.

Family hardship had matured him, and his honesty intrigued her more.

I wanted to tell my parents everything, but I was scared they would disown me after knowing my sexuality.

I am still grieving and still discovering grief and it’s many dimensions.

After moving to Kathmandu, his parents visited the village every year, but Yuvraj never went with them.

Although her face seemed happy, her eyes told me a different story—they were bright but they lacked the light.

How much love is too much love?

She was a refugee but I never considered her as a stranger. And knowing that I wouldn’t see her again broke me.