Alana Malik I loved him even before I knew the meaning of the word love. But realizing that the man I have loved my whole life is in love with Noor... Maybe I would have killed Noor if she were some other girl. But the girl my love, my bakht, is in love with is none other than Noor Dawood Malik-my brother's wife-who is dealing with consecutive delays and behaves like a child. Only Allah knows how brutally my heart broke hearing his confession for Noor in front of my family. Bakhtiyar bin Taha I know I sinned by falling for my brother's wife. But what hurts more is the realization that Alana loves me. And I don't know what to do now, because to me she is the daughter of the man who ruined my Tani phupho. I hate her bold behavior. I hate the mere thought that her veins carry Theodore's blood, and yet my family treats her like she is some princess. For her, he is the love of her life, and she fell in love with him since childhood-without knowing the reality of him being the illegitimate son of the man who tried to rape her phupho. For him, she is just the bold, noisy flesh of the man who ruined his Tani phupho.

He was my love, but I was just his path towards the crown which he never owned. When my parents warned me he was a terrorist, I laughed. I didn't believe them. Not until he robbed his own love and left her to die in tiny deaths, moment by moment. We weren't just a few years apart in age, but miles apart in our thoughts as well. Our origins were different, our upbringings were different, we lived in different directions of the world, and yet I never let any of these cause a crack between us, until he decided to build one. REVENGE. His revenge. I was born with the title of Princess, and he was forced to become a knight. He was ready to destroy both of us in the flames of his revenge, lapping around our relationship's newly dug grave. And yet, I stood there firm, unshakable, unbreakable, indestructible, ready to see what his extent was. Because no matter what, at the edge where he ends... I begin. Our marriage didn't only gave a new direction to our relation, but it also sparked an unspoken hunger in him. I don't know why I was getting punished for something I never did. Not only did I betray the promise to my parents, but I also betrayed my every boundary for him. My love for him turned to my dedication when he gave me the only reason to hate him. He put his blade on the neck of the only one I loved the most. So, I put my blade on him, slicing off all the threads of our never budding relationship. He wanted to win it all for the Crown. So, I destroyed it all for the Blood. It was the battle of Blood vs Crown. And the winner was yet to be announced.

Dilan Malik was the epitome of beauty and innocence. Pure, untainted, radiant-a fragile bloom in a world that often demanded thorns. Rudra Sagar Rathore was the opposite: cunning, ruthless, a snake slithering through the corridors of power. Betrayal was his signature, and manipulation his art. And now, he had set his eyes on her-not her, but the empire her name carried. The elections. The money. The power. That was his goal. Her body, her soul, her trust-they were just tools in his hands. She didn't know the kind of storm that was coming. She only wanted one thing: someone to erase the weight she had been carrying alone, someone to lift her from the ruins of a family collapsing like an old, fragile vase. ..... Notification came The one that shattered her world. A video of her surrendering herself willingly. Of her body, her trust, her innocence... all exploited, all public, all viral. She loves him beyond anything and here he make a show of her trust and love... His face? Hidden. Blurred. An enigma wrapped in shadows. But hers? Her body became the world's possession. .. "I hate myself for loving him," she whispered through tears, clutching her belly where the seed of his betrayal is breathing with her Abira's hands were on her, bloodshot eyes reflecting horror, helplessness, rage. Her baby sister... reduced to a headline. .. Falling for her was never on his list. But here he was-mad, possessive, captivated, loving her like a storm loves the shore. .... He hated her faith. He hated the mere existence of Muslims. She... saw humanity in everyone, lived it for the sake of Allah, even as the world crumbled around her. And now, their fates were entwined-her innocence, his obsession, a viral scandal that could destroy everything. Somewhere between power and betrayal, love and hate, the world waited. And it was ready to watch it all burn. ---

When the most ruthless king, after conquering nearly the entire kingdom, captures a princess bound to him not by blood, but by destiny - a fragile soul against a man of stone - what unfolds next is a tale written in fire and fate. Story from the 1350s __________ His voice dropped further, a cold growl vibrating through the chamber. "Do you even realize," he snarled, "Who are you pointing that blade at?" His words cracked in the still air. "I could finish you with a snap of my fingers, foolish girl." He leaned in-not forward, not risking the blade-but with a shift of presence, reminding her of the power he carried like a second skin. "As my wife," he continued, each word laced with warning, "You are meant to obey. You are to be quiet. You are to do as commanded." A beat. His eyes narrowed. "Now put the dagger down and get into that bed... before I lose the last of my patience and pass your death sentence myself." The threat hung heavily in the air. But she did not move. And neither did the dagger pressed to his chest-The first weapon ever to make Rudravardhan Singh Rathore pause. "Wife." The word left Ratanpriya's lips not as a title... but as mockery. A blade dipped in quiet contempt. "Don't you know," she said, her voice low and level beneath the veil, "A Kshatriya princess chooses her own husband? And I..." A breath, cold as steel. "...never chose you." Rudravardhan's jaw tightened. His eyes darkened. In a flash, the dagger was ripped from her hand and sent clattering into the far corner of the chamber. His grip seized her wrist-one arm trapped painfully behind her back, the other pinned against the stone railing. Her back pressed against his chest, each breath of his a storm rolling through her stillness. "You accept or not," he hissed, voice burning against her veil, "I am your husband. And I am your fate."

⚠️ TW : contains violence

She was 18. He was 30..HE IS A KING Of marwar, Jodhpur. "I'm your wife, you can't ignore me rana sa!" "No, Kainaat... you're just a deal, a child." -"are u cheating on me?" She asked before breaking down. A forced royal marriage meant to end a long-standing rivalry between two powerful families. To him, she was a child bride - too young, too common, too unwanted. He gave her a palace, his last name... and nothing else. No love. No touch. No claim. --- - He's cold, royal, and ruthless. -She's kind, silent, and secretly possessive. ~She was once the unwanted queen. Now she's the one who owns the king.

Emir Yurt, a 28 year-old rugged farm guy, who wanted nothing but to buy bread and butter for his family. His life turned upside down when 23 Year-old Noor Yilmaz, a spoiled heiress, arrived at her grandfather's farmhouse for the summer. It was not love at first sight but hate at first sight but as tensions simmered, unexpected desires began to ignite between them. But soon, the fairytale came crashing down, turning Emir's life into a living hell. He would never be the same boy again. His world was thrown into chaos-and the reason behind it would be Noor Yilmaz. There was another, always in the background. A girl like a sigh. Sofia Kurt, only 18, stood just beyond the frame. Too young to interfere, too quiet to count. Her love was not returned. It was not even noticed. But it was unconditional. She didn't need Emir to look at her. She didn't need him to love her back. If being in his life meant she had to bleed quietly, she would. Because while Emir played with fire, Sofia was the flame he never saw coming. This is a story of revenge, regret and unconditional love. 🔞🔞 Age-gap