☆Clash of Souls: Reunited Book one of Twisted Souls series ☆( part-1)
This book is divided into two parts
And this one is part -1
𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈 𝐁𝐇𝐀𝐓 × 𝐕𝐘𝐀𝐀𝐍 𝐌𝐄𝐇𝐑𝐀
What if childhood friends, now bitter rivals, are forced into an arranged...
Hello my lovelies, thank you all for your support.
Before reading this chapter, I wanted to clarify a few things:
1. Driti has gone through a lot, but no one knows the full extent of her struggles. 2. She still believes that her childhood friend will come back and find her. 3. Driti doesn’t know that Vyaan is the same person she has been searching for. 4. Vyaan is being kind to Driti because he recently found out that her health is not in the best condition. 5. Vyaan is helping her heal and is trying to be a better person, but only for her.
I hope you understand these points before continuing with the chapter.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆
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Driti;
You look pretty when you paint.
Abhiyaan’s voice cuts through the quiet, but I barely register it. His words are like background noise, something I should react to but can't bring myself to care about.
It's been a month since it all went down. That day.
I was drugged by my stalker.
My throat tightens at the memory, the way the world blurred around me, the way my mind slowed, my body betraying me as I sank into oblivion.
And since then, every step feels like I'm walking through fog. I can’t erase it. It clings to me, crawling under my skin, forcing me to relive that moment every time I close my eyes.
But you’d never know it by looking at me.
I’m still standing, still moving forward, because showing weakness? It’s not an option. Not for someone like me.
No one needs to know the wreckage inside me, the way my hands tremble when no one’s watching.
I pretend, paint, and breathe through it all, even when the memories resurface with a vengeance.
I may look strong, but deep down, I’m suffocating.
And no one can know.
"What?" I asked, not bothering to hide the edge in my voice.
I heard him. I just didn't care. Compliments like that don’t mean anything to me anymore.
Not after everything.
I keep my focus on the brush in my hand, watching the colors blend together on the canvas, wishing I could sink into them and disappear.
"Nothing, Lilly."He said, smiling like it was the easiest thing in the world.
His words? They're just noise. Background static. But I can feel his eyes on me, waiting for a response I’m not sure I want to give.
Because right now, I’m too tired to pretend I care.
