The Park Bench Promise
"Every Sunday, Hira reads in the same park, on the same bench. When Rashid starts appearing with his own book, their literary connection becomes a love story of its own."
The Park Bench Promise
"Good book?"
Hira looked up. The man beside her on the bench was handsome, holding a worn copy of her favorite author.
"The best. You?"
"Discovering it for the first time." Rashid smiled. "Maybe you could tell me why it's so special?"
Sundays became their ritual. Books exchanged. Recommendations traded. Conversations that felt like literature themselves.
"Why this park?" she asked.
"My mother used to bring me here." His voice softened. "After she died, I kept coming. Felt close to her."
"My father too." Hira's eyes stung. "This bench was his favorite."
"Maybe they knew." Rashid took her hand. "Maybe they sent us to each other."
One Sunday, he kissed her instead of discussing chapters.
"Best plot twist," Hira whispered.
"Best ending." He pulled her closer. "Or beginning."
The wedding was in the park—their bench decorated with flowers.
The marriage was a love story neither could have authored alone.
But together, it was perfect.