Cuando el balon dejo de girar
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Publikasi terakhir Kam, Jul 2, 2026
Hace siete años, Tamir abandonó el baloncesto tras una traición que cambió su vida para siempre. Ahora, con veinticinco años, regresa a la cancha como estratega de un equipo decidido a alcanzar el campeonato, convencida de que nunca volverá a jugar.
Pero el destino le tiene preparado un nuevo comienzo. Entre viejas heridas, nuevos compañeros y la inesperada llegada de Kael, Tamir descubrirá que la batalla más difícil no se libra en la duela... sino dentro de ella misma.
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Excerpt I got a peace offering. And Ice cream. The message popped up again. His Bhaiyu was making it hard to ignore. Darwaza khol, yaar. Mogambo uth jayenge. Ansh glared at the French windows. Even desperate his Bhaiyu would not quit the name calling. Shall I leave? Ansh did not respond. Okay! Leaving the ice-cream outside. Take it before it melts. Ansh did not respond, but his heart skipped a beat. He wanted to meet his Bhaiyu. He was even a little desperate, but he did not wish to give in so soon. So, he counted until 100 and then slowly made his way outside. Iris hopped down from the bed and followed behind him. Ansh opened the doors with a big heart only to find a basket filled with dumb yellow smile squishes and a big tub of ice-cream in between. A few CD's were tucked into the basket almost as an afterthought. The game CD's that Ansh wanted. Ansh glared at the basket. "Do minute nahi rukh saktey they kya?" He muttered under his breath. "You made me wait 17 minutes, kidoo" A voice whispered in his ears. Ansh almost screamed but Nirbhay's palm closed around his mouth before any sound could slip. Ansh's heart thudded in his chest. His Bahiyu had almost given him a heart attack. Nirabhay grabbed the basket and slipped inside with Ansh, and shut the door behind him.Lengkap
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كود بـلو «الإنعاش القلبي»
الرواية منفصلة ولكنها مرتبطة بـ«أحفاد الخياط» رائحة المطهّرات ، وصوت أجهزة قياس المؤشرات الحيوية ، رائحة الجوانتيات اللاتكس ، تألم مريض ، أدوية و مستلزمات طبية كئيبة ، بالأضافة إلى طعام خالٍ من الملح أو التوابل ، جدران بيضاء و زي موحد سواء كان طبيب أو ممرض أو صيدلي أو أخصائي . هؤلاء هم الجيش الأبيض الذين يواجهون كل هذا بمفردهم . _كود بلو
جيتيني وأنا تايه وسط موج الحنين
ليست كل الحكايات تبدأ بابتسامة .. بعضها يولد من صمتٍ طويل من نظرة لم تُفهم أو من قرار صغير كان كافيًا ليقلب كل شي هنا لا تبحث عن أبطال خارقين ولا عن نهايات مثالية هنا ستجد القلوب كما هي ضعيفة عنيدة محطّمة لكنها تقاوم هذه الرواية ليست مجرد قصة بل مرآة وقد ترى نفسك بين السطور دون أن تنتبه مرحبًا بك في عالمٍ لا يشبه أحدًا لكنّه قد يشبهك
Sous Le Toit D'un gangster
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Excerpt I got a peace offering. And Ice cream. The message popped up again. His Bhaiyu was making it hard to ignore. Darwaza khol, yaar. Mogambo uth jayenge. Ansh glared at the French windows. Even desperate his Bhaiyu would not quit the name calling. Shall I leave? Ansh did not respond. Okay! Leaving the ice-cream outside. Take it before it melts. Ansh did not respond, but his heart skipped a beat. He wanted to meet his Bhaiyu. He was even a little desperate, but he did not wish to give in so soon. So, he counted until 100 and then slowly made his way outside. Iris hopped down from the bed and followed behind him. Ansh opened the doors with a big heart only to find a basket filled with dumb yellow smile squishes and a big tub of ice-cream in between. A few CD's were tucked into the basket almost as an afterthought. The game CD's that Ansh wanted. Ansh glared at the basket. "Do minute nahi rukh saktey they kya?" He muttered under his breath. "You made me wait 17 minutes, kidoo" A voice whispered in his ears. Ansh almost screamed but Nirbhay's palm closed around his mouth before any sound could slip. Ansh's heart thudded in his chest. His Bahiyu had almost given him a heart attack. Nirabhay grabbed the basket and slipped inside with Ansh, and shut the door behind him.
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