Author: Saba Javed

A Rainy Day and a Search for Love I remember that rainy afternoon in the fall of 2018, sitting in my tiny apartment in Brooklyn, the kind with creaky floors and windows that fogged up no matter how many times you wiped them. I’d just broken up with someone nothing dramatic, just that slow fade where you realize the spark’s gone, and you’re left wondering if love stories ever really end the way they do in books. I was scrolling through my laptop, half-heartedly searching for something to fill the quiet, when I typed in “love story generator” without much…

Rainy Days and Wedding Dreams I remember that rainy afternoon in 2020, sitting on the floor of my tiny city apartment, surrounded by bridal magazines borrowed from a friend. My sister had just gotten engaged, and over coffee, she’d asked, “Where do you even start? How do you search for wedding websites without losing it?” I laughed, but her question pulled me back to my own wedding planning days, a mix of joy and quiet panic. Maybe that’s why I’ve lingered in the world of bridal planning websites since then. They’re not just tools; they’re lifelines, like pages in a…

The Mirror That Changed Everything I remember that chilly autumn morning in 2018, scarf tight against the bite of the air, staring into the foggy bathroom mirror of my first post-college apartment. My fine hair, thin as whispers, lay flat after a humid night sabotaged my efforts. I’d spent the weekend at a friend’s wedding, dousing my strands with a random drugstore volumizing spray, but by the reception, they clung to my neck, a quiet defeat that shrank me smaller. I whispered to myself, “Maybe there’s something out there that won’t let you down.” That moment sparked years of searching…

That First Snowy Nail Polish Memory I remember that first real snow of the season, back in the winter of ’98, when I was twenty-something and fumbling through my first holiday away from home. The city lights blurred into this soft, glowing haze outside my tiny apartment window, and my hands chapped from too many shifts at the coffee shop felt like they needed something warm, something that whispered back to the chaos inside me. That’s when I tried my hand at Christmas holiday nail designs, just a simple red polish streaked with a bit of gold shimmer I found…

The Boots That Held Me Together I remember the first time I really felt autumn in my bones not just the crisp air nipping at my cheeks, but the way my feet sank into those worn leather boots, the ones I’d impulse-bought during that rainy weekend in college upstate. It was sophomore year, maybe, and I’d wandered into this little thrift shop off the main drag, the kind with creaky floors and a cat that judged you from the counter. The boots were scuffed, dark brown, with a low heel that clicked against the pavement like a heartbeat. I slipped…

That Rainy Day in 2003 I remember that rainy afternoon in 2003, fogged-up windows in my mom’s old station wagon, sixteen and restless in the back seat with Sarah, my best friend who got me like no one else. We were headed to the mall, chasing an escape from our small-town summer. The radio hummed some forgettable pop song, but then the Freaky Friday movie trailer hit Lindsay Lohan’s fiery Anna, slamming doors, and Jamie Lee Curtis as Tess, her mom with that knowing wink. Sarah and I traded glances, silently vowing to sneak into the theater that Friday, popcorn…

Sunlight Through Lace Curtains I remember the summer of 2012, standing in Aunt Clara’s Victorian house, sunlight filtering through lace curtains as I tugged at my sundress, unsure if I fit the scene. The wedding invitation had said, “Come as you are,” but the mix of linen suits and flip-flops left me dizzy with doubt. That quiet ache of not knowing the dress codeit’s stayed with me, a tender bruise. Now, years later, I sift through memories of weddings, piecing together a wedding dress code wording guide that feels like a whisper, not a rule. Maybe that’s why I linger…

That Faded Butterfly Clip in My Drawer I still have it, you know this little pink butterfly clip tucked away in my old jewelry box, the one with the cheap plastic wings that used to sparkle under the fluorescent lights of my high school bathroom. I remember the day I bought it, back in 2001, at that mall kiosk where everything smelled like cotton candy and desperation. It was the height of Y2K fashion, or so we thought, with everyone buzzing about what does Y2K mean beyond the computer glitches everyone’s feared. To me, it meant slipping that clip into…

A Memory of Angelina, Then and Now I remember the first time Angelina Jolie really caught me, not just as a face on a screen but as someone who felt like a mirror to my own messy, searching heart. It was that rainy winter in 2001, my sophomore year in college, when I was tucked into my dorm room with a stack of DVDs and a thermos of tea that tasted more like nostalgia than chamomile. Lara Croft: Tomb Raider flickered on my tiny TV, and there she was Angelina, all fire and defiance, striding through ruins like she could…

The First Glow of a Red Light Mask I remember the first time I slipped on one of those LED face masks, the kind they call a red light therapy mask now, back in that dim apartment in the city last summer. It was one of those humid evenings where the air felt heavy, and my skin was acting up from all the stress fine lines creeping in around my eyes like unwelcome guests, redness flaring from too many late nights. I’d been scrolling through reviews, half-doubting, half-desperate, wondering if this was just another fad or something that could really…