Running from hell isnʼt easy. Especially when someoneʼs dragging you back down into it. Belligerent, brash and always in shades of black, Freya is hardly a lady. Hidden away by her father, sheʼs lived a normal life despite being born into the dark waters of New Yorkʼs underworld. Heʼs cold, cruel and calculating, with a proclivity for destruction. Feared by even Made Men, Torren is the boss of the stateʼs most leachorous crime syndicate. Freya hates his crudity and possessiveness, but she canʼt deny the way her breath hitches at his rough touch, the deep timbre of his voice, and his dark, heated gaze. Torren hates her disobedience, her recklessness, and her chaos. To him, sheʼs only something to be tamed. And after he slips a ring on her hand, snatching away her future, she makes only one vow---to become his biggest torment.

In the year of 1960s, life in the small village of Aligarh unfolded at a slower pace. Ezan Baig, the name which was feared by the people of Aligarh was all set to get married to his childhood fiancé but- Destiny had some other plan. Ezan's world is turned upside down when he is compelled to marry a girl far younger than him, while his fiancée, waits in the wings. Torn between his past and the overwhelming responsibility thrust upon him, Ezan's anger builds as the lines between duty, betrayal, and passion blur. But Mahika, with her quiet strength and resilience, becomes more than just a reluctant bride-she becomes a puzzle that Ezan can't seem to solve, a woman who refuses to be broken by the circumstances that have trapped her. Join the story of Mahika and Ezan. Who was Mahika? How did they get married? Why did they get married? Will they hide their marriage? What about his fiancé? ¤ "Tumse nikaah karke humnei bohot badi galti kardi. Sab kuch khatam ho gaya! SAB KUCH KHATAM KAR DIYA TUMNEI" Ezan said throwing the flower vase across the room. ⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹ Updates on: Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday ♡Inter-religion love story ♡Age-gap couple ♡Hinglish story ♡Forced Marriage ♡Secret Marriage

In a time when radios played Lata's songs and letters carried feelings deeper than words ever could, she met him-on the first day of college, twenty years after India gained independence. He wasn't a freedom fighter, but he freed something in her. A smile. A feeling. A love she never dared to name. He loved sitars when the world had moved on to guitars. He loved books, children, music... and she? She loved him. Quietly. Completely. From behind the veil of silence every sanskaari girl was taught to wear back then. He was the boy every girl admired. She was that quiet girl-who changed herself, little by little, just to be noticed. While he chased dreams and disappeared into the world, she stayed behind-with ink-stained fingers and a heart that beat only for him. She doesn't know where he is now. But she remembers the way he once looked at her, like she mattered. And now, decades later, all she has are her memories... and a diary that was never really about her. It was always about Him.

ONLY for 18+ audience. Keerthi felt a hand under her chin,coaxing her to look up ,as she met with warm brown eyes,in their darkest shade. Her eyes went to her husband's lips,wetting her own involuntarily,when she felt Vikram's hold tighten. She blushed,looking down,her face felt on fire. Vikram pulled her chin up, forcing her to look at him. "Keerthi", Vikram started gruffly,his voice laced with desire, their lips merely brushing, teasing one another,"We should go to sleep now if you don't want it to continue any further." Keerthi's face flamed at her husband's insinuation. But dammit,she wanted to be kissed. For the first time ever.