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  • 3 Followers

  • 3 Following

  • Bound By Fire And FateBound By Fire And Fate

    Bound By Fire And Fate

    Avni had always been careful. She never let people too close, never trusted too easily. But Kiaan? He had forced his way into her life like a storm—reckless, infuriating, and impossible to ignore. They had been enemies from the start. His sharp words, her cold glares, the endless battle of wills. But somewhere between the arguments and the stolen glances, the lines blurred. And then the notes started. The feeling of being watched. The whispers in the dark. At first, she thought it was him. Kiaan—the man who knew too much about her, who always seemed to be a step ahead. But then she realized: he wasn’t the one watching her. Someone else was. For the first time, Kiaan wasn’t the threat. He was the shield. The shift between them was subtle. A lingering touch. The way his voice softened when he said her name. The way her heart betrayed her, beating too fast whenever he was near. But just when everything felt right—when she let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, they could be something more— The screech of tires. The shattering of glass. A scream. And then—nothing.

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  • Married To A StrangerMarried To A Stranger

    Married To A Stranger

    Mitra had always believed love was something she would choose. A quiet, steady flame, nurtured by time and understanding. But standing here, draped in red and gold, she felt like a pawn on a board she never agreed to play. She had once dreamed of this moment—the sacred vows, the flickering flames, the weight of promises whispered beneath a mandap. But not like this. Not with a man who was never meant to be hers. Rohan was gone. The betrayal still burned, raw and unspoken, but the world had moved too fast for her grief to settle. One moment, she was his bride-to-be; the next, she was told Veer would take his place. Veer. The man who had always been there—silent, watchful, a storm restrained beneath his composed exterior. She had never understood the way he looked at her, like she was something distant yet unbearably close. Now she did. Because Veer had loved her. Loved her from the very first moment. And still, he had let her go. And now, fate had rewritten their story with ink too dark to erase. Mitra looked up at him, searching for anger, resentment—anything to make this easier. But Veer only held her gaze, steady and unreadable, his hands clenched at his sides. “This isn’t fair,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I’m not yours to claim.” A muscle tensed in his jaw. “I know.” A pause. A breath. And then— “But I was yours long before this day.” Before she could reply, before she could understand the weight of his words, the scent of smoke curled through the air. A gasp. A murmur of panic. And then— Flames. Rising, consuming, devouring. The mandap was burning.

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  • The Hidden Vows UnveiledThe Hidden Vows Unveiled

    The Hidden Vows Unveiled

    Rudra had loved her from the beginning. From the moment he first saw Ishani, lost in her colors, painting a world only she could see. She was chaos and wonder, a dreamer with paint-streaked fingers and wild ideas. He had watched her from afar, heart aching with something he never dared to name. But love was never his to choose. Duty came first. Promises made before he even had a say. And so, on the night he was meant to marry another, fate twisted its threads. The bride changed, the name on his lips no longer the one he had prepared for. Ishani stood before him, wrapped in red and gold, yet nothing about this moment felt like a celebration. Ishani never dreamed of being someone’s second choice. She had dreamed of art galleries, of colors dancing on blank canvases, of a love that burned bright and unafraid. But now, she was here, in a marriage she never asked for, beside a man who had once loved someone else. Would he ever look at her the way she wanted? Was she a replacement or something more? No one knew how this story would end—not even the stars above.

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  • Written in the StarsWritten in the Stars

    Written in the Stars

    The first time Aarav Pradhan kissed Sanya Bhattacharya, the world they felt burned gold like their love had encompassed everything. Yet the irony being their love became as fleeting as the evening sky. She had scoffed, “Idiot,” but kissed him back, gripping his collar like he was something fragile. Because at seventeen, love felt like forever. Until the night it all fell apart. One call. One scream. And Sanya was gone. Her mother—her anchor, her home—was ripped from her world, leaving behind nothing but silence and grief. Sanya stopped answering his calls, stopped meeting him behind the old banyan tree. When he finally found her, the girl who once traced hearts on his palm was a ghost of herself. "I don’t need you, Aarav." "You don’t mean that—" "Just go." Her voice had been sharp, final. But her hands had trembled. Aarav had begged, pleaded, but she had only walked away, leaving him with nothing but questions and the taste of something unfinished. Years later, she stood before him again. The same Sanya. But different. "Sanya." She smiled. Slow. Almost… pleased. “Aarav. It’s been a while.” "Not long enough," he muttered, but the words felt hollow. She only laughed, tilting her head. “Still so soft.” Something about the way she looked at him—like she knew him, owned him—sent a shiver down his spine. Nostalgia clawed at him, memories of stolen glances and whispered confessions tangling with the bitterness of abandonment. "Do you ever think about us?" he asked. She leaned in, voice a whisper. "Every. Single. Day." And just when Aarav thought he could finally unravel the mystery of her absence, a scream cut through the air. His breath hitched. And he saw over there Sanya as she lay on the pavement,with blood pooling around her.

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