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.

"I can give you grandchild without marriage too mom" Mira said after listening to her mom's useless reason making everyone shock. Yeah???? "I...I mean adop...adoption you know" Mira stuttered but nervously smiled "Don't you love someone?" Janvi asked with pity in her eyes for her daughter. "Ab Is GenZ vale jamane me Dev Anand ya Sharukh Khan milna mushkeel ho geya hai!" Mira Said dramatically "You are way too filmy, ese toh koi nhi milega!" Neha told her with a knowing look. "Then I am happy single!" She told her. "Beta You Are Getting Old!????????" Janvi said to which Akhil choked on his food on other hand Mira's eyes widen in shock and Neha laughed loudly holding her stomach. Bezzati ???? *** She suddenly bumped into someone which made her lose her balance, she waited to touch the ground which never happened, someone hold her right hand and saved her. Mira opened her eyes and was surprised to find a familiar yet unfamiliar face infront of her, she was mesmerized by him. His face was calm, he had light beard, his brown eyes were hidden behind his frameless specs, he was looking descent yet hot in the black kurta with rolled sleeves, her eyes fell on his hand which was holding hers just to get more attracted by his veiny arm. She looked into his eyes again which were already looking at her making her heartbeat run like a rollercoaster. For Mira, everything stopped and the only song was playing in her mind. Tum bhi ho... main bhi Hoon Paas aao toh keh doon Aakhir kyun pal mein yun Diwaana main ho gaya Tumhe jo maine dekha Jo hosh tha woh toh gaya . . #284 out of 2.31 Million (in Love) #12 out of 99.9K (on Wattpad) #164 out of 101K (In Secret) #143 out of 173K (in comedy) #155 out of 115K (in best friend) #156 out of 477K (in fiction) #24 out of 63K (in crush) #128 out of 299K (in lovestory)

❝𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒕, 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒚?❞ _____________________________ Sidharth never wanted this marriage. Trapped by circumstances and haunted by a past he didn't want to face, he told himself it was only a duty. But Noor-silent, simple Noor-was something he couldn't ignore. Her presence stirred something in him, her quietness louder than his own chaos. She never asked for anything, yet she made him face the parts of himself he wanted to forget. And as his walls started to fall, he hated that he wanted her-that he needed the warmth of someone he was never meant to have. As time went on, He began to behave in ways that were antithetical to his initial intentions. He found himself doing everything he had once vowed never to do with his wife. He became the very husband he had despised. He started to crave more, an insatiable desire that gnawed at his soul for her. And then nothing seems to satisfy his aching soul other than his arranged wife's one smile. ●An Indian arranged marriage romance. #Book-1 in #His bride series. (A standalone book) ●Bᴏᴏᴋ ɪs ʀᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴅᴜᴇ ᴛᴏ Dᴀʀᴋ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ, ᴀɢᴇ ɢᴀᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪɢʜʟʏ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ʟɪɢʜᴛ BDSM. (Have a lot of grammatical and spelling mistakes.) ╰┈➤Started on: 28 April 2024 Author♥️

[PARTITION ROMANCE] 18+ She is a mute. He is a politician. And 1947 is burning around them. After surviving a brutal assault and losing her only family, Vrishty, a voiceless Hindu girl, is left alone in a town tearing itself apart. Hunted by the man who first claimed her, she hides in silence, until Meer, an emerging Muslim politician, becomes the only barrier between her and the chaos outside. Bound by guilt and an unexpected pull, Meer begins to realise his vicinity with the girl. But the nation which divided amongst the communal hate, will it be able to save these burning interfaith hearts, alive? __________________________ "In Islam" he continued quietly. "You cannot marry unless both agree... and unless both are Muslim" His expression twisted, a deep aching conflict. I shook my head, looking at him. As if almost pleading him. Noo...please....