||Still editing||
☆A ROYAL DARK ROMANCE THRILLER☆
Sakshi Rathore, betrothed to the powerful yet enigmatic Rudrakshit Ranawat, felt the weight of tradition press upon her delicate shoulders. Her marriage was more than a union of hearts; it was a...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
SAKSHI RATHORE (5'5) 21 YEARS OLD COLLEGE STUDENT
SAKSHI RATHORE had always been the embodiment of quiet grace, her beauty both delicate and powerful, like the first bloom of a lotus in still waters.
Hailing from the regal city of Udaipur, she carried the heritage of her ancestors in every step, her serene beauty reminiscent of a goddess from an ancient tale.
Her soft almond-shaped hazel green eyes, framed by long, dark lashes, held an innocence untouched by the harshness of the world, while her smooth, milky white skin glowed with a warmth that mirrored the setting sun over the shimmering lakes of her hometown.
She moved through life with a quiet dignity, her long, silken hair cascading down her back like a river of midnight, and her gentle smile radiating a purity that drew people in effortlessly.
Sakshi's naivety, however, wasn't one born of ignorance, but rather of a sheltered heart that believed in the goodness of the world, untouched by the shadows lurking just beyond her understanding.
Her life was simple, steeped in tradition and familial love, yet there was something about her-something ethereal-that hinted at a depth even she was unaware of.
Little did she know, her path would soon cross with forces that would test every facet of her innocent soul.
___________________________________________
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
RUDRAKSHIT RANAWAT (6'5) 28 YEARS OLD KING OF RAJASTHAN AND CEO OF RANAWAT REALM
RUDRAKSHITRANAWAT the very definition of power, his presence commanding every room like a storm on the horizon. The king of Rajasthan, he was feared by many and known by a name that sent shivers down the spines of those who dared to whisper it-Doom.
His beauty was sharp, almost cruel, with features carved from marble, as though the gods themselves had crafted him to be admired and feared in equal measure. His chiseled jawline and strong, proud brow were offset by cold, piercing eyes, the color of molten steel, that never wavered. To look into them was to glimpse the abyss, a soul as unyielding as the desert sun.
