⬩➤ VIRAJ × JANAAT(main leads) A tale that began with protection only!! But soon collided with something... A man with a legacy and a hidden empire For months, he stayed in the shadows, ensuring nothing reached her. Then decided to marry her. Soon, the line drawn out of protection started to blur. She became the moment he forgot to blink. She became the center of his world. He realized protection was not enough; it was never. From there, Passion started- raw passion. ﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏ ⬩➤ VEER × HEER (second leads) She is a slow-developing woman. And he was a man who had already decided never to marry anyone. Until he shop flower from her. For her, he broke his rule and married her. Not out of duty. Not out of pressure. But as a responsibility. He surrendered it all-his expectations, his future, every unspoken dream Just to keep her safe, just to keep her with him. ﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏ This is a soft romance novel-with gentle but passionate moments. Discretion is advised!! ©All rights reserved Started- 1 December 2025

𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 '𝐓𝐨𝐫𝐧' 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 ❝𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐭.❞ -Shivani Desai ❝𝐉𝐚𝐚𝐧, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧.❞ -Reyaan Oberoi ～✿～ She is the mastermind of the game, planning every move carefully and placing every piece with precision. Yet, she doesn't realize that the game isn't just running on her skills, but the god of the game himself is on her side. -quietly playing his own game in the shadow of her game. ～✿～ 🎀 TROPES 🎀 Physiotherapist × Business Tycoon Replaced Groom Planned Marriage Obsessed × Devoted Love Possessive Male Lead Manipulative Female Lead Touch her & lose your important hand Mysterious Past Both fell harder [who fell first? That's secret, my Jaan]

She was supposed to marry the successful brother. Instead, she married the forgotten one. What starts as a decision made to save her family's dignity slowly turns into something neither of them expected. Because he may not have money, status, or approval - but he has loyalty. And a heart no one bothered to see. Before fame. Before success. Before recognition. She stood beside him. But when the world that once ignored him comes back for him - will love be enough to survive it? 18-4-26 : #398 out of 547k stories in fiction 19-4-26 : #2 out of 15.6K stories in wife

"Ouchh," I cried trying to balance. I looked up at him with soft eyes, flushed cheeks. He looked into my eyes with his knitted ones. His hair lying over his sweaty forehead. I never presumed to glimpse him this close. His photographs conveyed his good looks but his dominating aura was hard to handle. I was feeling scared to even breathe in his arms. Bringing his fingers to my face he gently pushed hair strands behind my ear. I lowered my eyes feeling extremely shy. "Sambhal kar chaliye zara, har waqt bahein nahi hongi hamari sambhalne ko," he said in a scratchy tone. There was a hint of taunt present. I knitted my brows to his words and quickly matched his aura. "Hume chahiye bhi nahi," I said glaring at him. He shot his eyebrows a little and I pushed him to leave angrily. Turning around I stepped up on another dumbbell and slipped over it again. I threw my hands in the air for support and once again found him snaking my waist and pulling my back closer to his chest. "Are you sure," he asked over my ears. I angrily looked back at him, found him smirking. "Baahon mein girte girte, mohabbat me mat giriyega hamare," he whispered looking into my eyes. "Kabhi nahi," I replied and left. I royally ignored his taunt only to end up marrying him. Day by day my feelings for him grew stronger though finding happiness was becoming a risky game. But I was heartbroken upon discovering that he only married me out of pity and loved someone else who he was to marry. Not having parents from young age now made me helpless. It felt good to leave home where my family cared for me all these years, after my parents. I did not want to go back and be a burden again. But living this life with him didn't seem fruitful either. This is love story of Tejas Pratap Rathore and Sunaina Maan Singh. Storyline takes place in the early years of 21st century (2001). A beloved saga tying them together in love and commitment whilst they dwell over misunderstandings and growing feelings.

"Are you wet, dimple ?" Sara Vijay has everything except her freedom. Desperate to escape her father's political stranglehold, she blackmails her coldest rival, Zavian Moretti, into marriage. Zavian is a celebrated professor and the enigmatic owner of the Morvane Clinical Institute-admired, untouchable and far more dangerous than he lets the world see. Sara thinks she's forcing his hand. In reality, that's not even close. Will she finally submit to his dark desires or will she be the one to break him first? ~~~ A DARK ROMANCE NOVEL Tropes Dark romance Touch her and die Villain gets the girl Spicy romance Forced marriage Childhood rivals She hates him Obsessed villain Morally grey Murder mystery Psychological thriller Professor x student ( 2 years age gap ) Contains mature content, readers are advised to read only if they are comfortable! #2 in top 10 india on 15,16 /5/26 🧿 #6 in top 10 india on 20,21 /5/26 #5 in top 10 Indian on 22 /5/ 26 #4 in top 10 India on 12/ 7/ 26 #3 in top 10 India on 13/7/26

He wasn't supposed to touch her. Yet here she was in his arms, held like she belonged there, like she had never been meant to stand anywhere else. "Put me down..." Arohi whispered, her voice trembling despite the strength she tried to hold on to. Her hands pressed lightly against his chest, a weak attempt to create distance, but his grip only tightened, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind her that he wasn't letting go. "You still think you have a choice?" His voice was calm, almost soft, but something darker lingered beneath it, something that made her breath hitch. She looked up at him, and what she saw in his eyes wasn't anger or care, it was something far more dangerous. Something that didn't ask. Something that claimed. Years ago, he had left without a word. Everyone thought it was his choice. But the truth was, he left to protect her from himself, from the way his gaze lingered too long, from the darkness inside him that whispered her name like a sin. He thought distance would bury it, that time would erase it. But obsession doesn't fade. It waits. It grows in silence. And now he was back. Standing too close, holding her too tightly, looking at her like he had already crossed a line she didn't even know existed. "I did that once," he said quietly. "Let you go." His hold tightened just slightly. "Not again." In that moment, Arohi understood something she should have realized the second he walked back into her life. He didn't come back to stay. He came back because he couldn't stay away. Because the darkness he once ran from now wanted her. Not gently. Not safely. But completely.

𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑴𝒆 ••• "Did you know how I felt when I learned my wife wants to divorce me through a fūcking outsider?" He asked, his piercing gaze meeting hers through the mirror. His one hand was resting on her stomach, keeping her close to him while the other one touched her head. "This-" He moved the finger from her head to her heart. "-this-" He pulled her closer from his other hand. "-your whole fūcking being, belongs with me, get that?" He asked, raising her chin to make her look in the mirror. She should push him away, she should be telling him how much she hates him but she found herself nodding. "Words." He pressed. "Yes," She mumbled. "What's your name?" "Roop." "What's your name?" He asked again, pronouncing each word clearly this time. "Roop Mehrotra." "Roop. Amrit. Mehrotra." His jaw tightened, "Say it." "Roop Amrit Mehrotra." She breathed out, trying to get away from him but his grip was firm. "Right, and it's going to stay just like that." ••• Two people, one unwanted marriage. The question is, will they survive or give up without even trying? •••

In a world where power is everything, the Shekhawat men rule from the shadows-ruthless, untouchable, and hidden behind the façade of billion-dollar empires. Their secrets are buried deep, their sins masked behind tailored suits and cold stares. No one dares to cross them. Until they do. Yashika, Meher, Trisha, and Tanishka-four women bound to the Shekhawat brothers by fate, deception, and secrets too dangerous to unveil. Each step they take, each vow they make, pulls them deeper into a world where love is a weapon and loyalty is a curse. Yashika fights against a marriage that was never meant to be hers. Meher walks a thin line between silence and rebellion. Trisha plays a game even she isn't sure she can win. Tanishka, the wildcard, is the one threat they never saw coming. But in a world where betrayal is inevitable and love is a dangerous illusion-who will survive, and who will burn?

love stories are always admired let me take you to journey which will make u admire the path of reconstruction That's what their story is all about A second chance where love will rebuild hatred will fall back things will be happy but not before the people are sad well a happy ending is only valued when the story is all about pain iykyk 😉

"Why don't you understand, Mr. Agnihothri?" The words were torn from my throat, raw and desperate. "I am not the one who is made for love. Don't try to heal me, Shiv. I'm telling you, you will only break yourself in that process," I screamed, the sound catching and splintering with a deep, shaky breath. ​But the expected anger, the frustrated retreat, never came. Instead, his gaze-intense, impossibly tender-met mine, and a small, maddeningly serene smile touched the corner of his lips. It was a silent challenge, a soft denial that made the fragile control I held on my sanity begin to crumble. ​"Let's stop this here, please," I whispered, the desperate plea barely audible, the fight draining from me. "You deserve someone whole, someone pure, not a shattered, half-broken glass doll like me." The confession was an admission of defeat, and a single, traitorous tear-hot and heavy-escaped the dam of my composure, tracing a path down my cheek. ​Something fractured in his placid facade. The smile vanished, replaced by a sudden, fierce darkness. He shut his eyes, his jaw clenching as he inhaled a deep, steadying breath, a visible battle raging to master a sudden, barely contained fury. Then, in a single, predatory movement, he erased the space between us. ​He captured my shoulders, his grip not cruel, but intensely demanding, and pushed me firmly back against the cool, unforgiving drywall. The sudden pressure was intoxicating, trapping me between the solid surface and his unyielding body. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned in, his intent palpable, until his mouth was almost touching my ear. ​"Saanvi," his voice was a low, resonant rumble, a silken promise laced with a dangerous possessiveness, "Even the breath I take when you are near me is elixir (Amrit) for my soul." His lips brushed my skin as he spoke the last word, the sheer intimacy of the contact sending a wildfire racing through my veins and igniting my heart into an uncontrollable inferno. ​