The tale is acrimonious. Events and characters are fictitious. solely for amusement
The French term "amour" denotes "beautiful love," whereas the Romanian word "dor" refers to the emotional suffering that comes from being apart from the one you love...
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Sanjh stood up, her patience finally pushed to its limit. She started banging her plate on the table, each loud clang ringing out across the room. She was tired of being ignored.
Ansh, clearly annoyed, turned to face her. Without hesitation, he walked over and grabbed the plate from her hands.
In one swift, angry motion, he flung it across the room. The plate crashed into a glass pot by the wall, shattering it to pieces on the floor.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
he snapped, his voice cold.
But Sanjh didn’t back down. She held his gaze and said firmly,
“Making my presence known, since no one here seems to acknowledge it. What choice have you left me? I’ve told everyone here that I’m a vegetarian, but no one’s listening. I even offered to make my own arrangements, but that was turned down. So what am I supposed to do—either eat this food or starve?”
Ansh’s face hardened.
“This is the food you’ve been given. Either eat it or don’t. It’s your choice.”
But Sanjh wasn’t finished. She glanced around the room, speaking to everyone as she raised her voice.
“What’s the point of this huge mansion if you can’t even provide one meal that meets my needs?”
Ansh looked her over, seeming surprised that she was still standing her ground. Most people would’ve backed down by now. But Sanjh wasn’t most people.
“Fine,”
she continued calmly.
“If you won’t make any changes, at least let me order something online. Don’t worry—I’ll pay for it myself.”
The room went silent as everyone stared, stunned by her boldness. For a moment, Ansh’s expression shifted, almost like he was reconsidering. But he quickly turned away, as if dismissing her. Sanjh, however, knew she had made her point, and this was only the beginning. She wasn’t going to let him silence her.
Ahan and Aarav had been childhood best friends, bound by years of shared secrets and an unspoken loyalty that ran deep.
“Who’s this chota packet bada dhamaka?”
Aarav asked, nodding towards a petite woman is standing in front of them, her presence still lingering like a spark.
Ahan shot him a knowing look, his smirk betraying a hint of amusement.
“That weirdo? She’s our special guest,” he replied, the weight behind those words unmistakable.
Aarav’s emotions wavered between delight and dread.
