if possible, listen to “Aise Kyun” for the vibe.
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7:01 PM — South Delhi, Inayat’s Car
The city lights blurred into golden streaks as Inayat’s car sliced through the evening traffic. Her head rested against the cool glass of the window, fingers mindlessly scrolling through an untouched WhatsApp notification bar then she remembered how one call that came last week changed her
Hey, I won’t call myself a writer — not in the traditional sense. I don’t sit with plots and outlines. Stories just… come to me. In illusions, in fleeting thoughts, in quiet moments when no one’s watching. I’ve carried them in my head for so long — now I’m slowly learning to share them here. This space is where I turn those inner visions into something real. And as I begin this journey, I have a simple hope: to keep creating, growing, and maybe even turning this into something sustainable. Your support helps me do just that. Whether it’s to invest in better tools, dedicate more time to writing, or just believe that this strange little dream of mine is worth something — every bit of encouragement (monetary or not) keeps me going. If my stories speak to you — or even just linger in your mind a little — your support would mean the world. Thank you for reading. Thank you for being here.
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