🕯️ Story Title: "Echoes of Disrespect"
Shahriar was the kind of guy people warned their daughters about.
Not because he was dangerous—but because he was loud, loose-tongued, and had no respect for others.
He and his group of friends would sit at the local tea stall, watching people walk by, especially couples. And then it would begin—his poisonous commentary:
> “Yo bro, look at that guy showing off his ‘item’ like he owns the street!”
“She looks like she's for sale, not for love!”
“If I had that girl for a day, I'd show her what real pleasure is.”
“Can’t believe guys nowadays have no shame—parading their wives around like trophies!”
And while others laughed, deep inside—some felt the sting. But Shahriar didn’t care. For him, it was fun. A man thing. Street humor. “Just jokes,” he’d say.
But what he didn’t know… was that life was listening.
---
💍 Years Later…
Time passed. Shahriar grew older, started a small business, and decided to settle down. He married Rabeya, a gentle, modest woman who brought light into his chaotic life.
One Friday afternoon, he held her hand and took her out. A walk. A little shopping. Ice cream on the way home. Nothing too fancy, just love in simple things.
They walked side by side, and for the first time, Shahriar felt truly proud—he had someone to protect, someone who trusted him.
But just as they passed a corner tea stall, he heard it:
> “Oooo bro, newlyweds in the wild!”
“Look at this guy acting like he owns the world with his wife beside him.”
“Hey sister-in-law, blink twice if you’re stuck!”
“Bring her out at night bro, daytime’s too boring!”
Suddenly, everything froze.
Rabeya stopped. Her hand tightened in his. Her face turned away—not out of anger, but shame.
Tears silently rolled down her cheek.
And that’s when Shahriar’s soul cracked.
Because in that very moment, he didn’t just hear the boys at the stall…
He heard his own past self screaming back at him.
Those same disgusting words.
Those same mocking tones.
Only this time… they were for his wife.
He didn’t yell back. He didn’t fight.
He simply walked away with his head lowered… as if the weight of a thousand apologies was pulling him to the ground.
---
🕯️ That Night...
He couldn’t sleep. The silence in the room was louder than any noise outside. He looked at Rabeya, sleeping on her side, holding back tears.
He opened his phone and typed:
> “I used to laugh at married couples.
I mocked them. Disrespected their wives.
I said things I thought were funny.
But tonight… the joke was on me.
And it was the most painful thing I’ve ever heard.”
---
💔 A Realization...
Shahriar began to change.
He stopped hanging with the same crowd. He stopped speaking when it wasn’t needed.
Instead, he started writing. Posting. Speaking at youth gatherings.
Sharing his story.
Not as a hero. But as an example of what not to become.
He once told a group of teenage boys at a mosque:
> “You think it’s fun? Laughing at couples?
Calling women names?
Then wait.
Wait until it’s your sister. Your mother. Your wife.
When you see tears in her eyes because some random guy thinks she’s just a ‘joke.’
That’s when you’ll learn:
Words don’t fade. They echo. And one day… they’ll find their way back to you.”
---
🕊️ Final Words:
You may think what you say on the street, or online, is just a joke.
But every word you spit can become a scar on someone’s soul.
And someday—when your turn comes—you'll feel it too.
> Respect is free. Disrespect is expensive.
Because when the bill comes due,
it’s paid in regret, tears, and shame.
