The portrait should have been nothing more than paint on fading canvas- Yet the moment the students stepped into the museum hall, the air shifted. It felt as if the walls remembered things -Prisha felt it first. Prisha Mehta-quiet, observant, orphaned-stood apart from her class, fingers grazing the railing as her eyes fixed on the newly unearthed painting. Princess Shivanya Maheshwari. The artist had painted her like a prayer. Long kohl-lined eyes. Dusky skin glowing beneath jewels. A soft mouth curved with grace. But beneath all the beauty, something felt terribly wrong. Prisha's heartbeat stilled. Because the princess didn't just resemble her. She looked exactly like her.The same eyes. The same bone structure. The same face. Her professor spoke somewhere behind her, recounting how Shivanya's kingdom fell to war centuries ago. How she died young, slain by the ruthless Prince Prithviraj Kshatriya-heir of the rival throne. That night, sleep refused to come. Something inside her whispered- Go back. She shouldn't have. She shouldn't have snuck past the locked museum doors, shouldn't have wandered alone through marble corridors lit only by thunder. But curiosity-dangerous, consuming-pulled her in. Thunder cracked above, rattling the walls.Prisha's breath hitched. And then-even before she could scream-the ground split open beneath her. The museum vanished. With a violent gasp, she clawed her way to the surface. Gone was the museum. Gone was the girl she had been. She staggered to her feet-drenched, trembling- maroon silk clinging to her body, gold heavy around her throat and wrists. She wasn't wearing her own clothes anymore.She was wearing the princess's. Prisha-no, Shivanya-stood in a storm-drenched forest. The only way back to her time was through the portrait. But to reach it...she would have to survive the kingdom that killed her once- -and the prince who was never meant to fall in love with her.

She is the heir to an empire built on silence and blood but she didn't inherit her father's throne out of sentiment. She earned it. Boardrooms bend. Rivals vanish. Men who underestimate her don't get second chances they get erased. She is beautiful the way a loaded weapon is beautiful: polished, precise, lethal. They call her a monster. She never corrects them. Aiden was never meant to protect her from danger. He was meant to protect the world from her. He's seen the version of Gabrielle that doesn't hesitate the one who smiles before she destroys you, who answers betrayal with extinction. He knows exactly what she is. And he loves her anyway. That's the problem. She doesn't believe someone like him could ever love something like her. And he's certain she would never choose someone like him a bodyguard, an orphan, a man born outside the crown. So they circle each other. Almost confessing. Always retreating. Because love is weakness and weakness is the one thing Gabrielle has never allowed herself to be. But when betrayal strikes and someone dares to aim for her throne, Aiden stops pretending he's just a guard. He will burn the world to keep what is his. Bleed for her. Kill for her. Die for her. And Gabrielle? She has never planned on letting him die. Because the monster may not love gently But once she chooses... She never lets go.

when a woman gets cheated on she decided to do something out of the box she doesn't cry she doesn't leave but she does something extraordinary And trust me this is not your usual revenge story this is different How ? Give the story a try

He's rich, famous, and disgustingly handsome. Also allergic to girls. Especially the clingy, squeaky, fainting kind. Too bad I'm not one of them. I accidentally (okay, not accidentally) insulted Zayn Raheja-the country's most loved heartthrob with those cursed heterochromia eyes. The man whose smirk makes fangirls lose brain cells. Zayn Raheja, Superstar. Billionaire. Heartthrob. One smirk from him and girls forget how to breathe. Too bad I've got better things to do-like sleep. But instead of hating me... He's obsessed. Which is ironic. Because I've been ignoring boys since third grade. And I've never met someone who made it so easy. He's cold, rude, and 100% not my type. So, why is he staring at me like I'm the only puzzle he can't solve? Oops. Plot twist: He fell first. And harder. He's used to girls chasing him. I'm used to avoiding trash. So, no thanks. Our first meeting? He blocked the hallway like he owned oxygen. I told him to move. Politely. (Okay, not politely.) Now he can't stop looking at me like I'm a Rubik's cube he can't solve. And I can't stop wondering why this Greek god keeps showing up where I am. I'm not one of his fangirls. I don't faint, I roast. He should've hated me. Instead... He fell. 💌 Tropes: Enemies-to-Lovers He Fell First Sarcastic Girl × Cold Boy Fangirls Everywhere Except Her Slow Burn, Fast Roasts Rich × Normal Girl Forced Proximity (Eventually!) Celebrity × Civilian Misunderstandings & Mutual Pining Soft Boy Under Layers of Ice He Fell First (and hates it) Not Like Other Girls (literally doesn't care) Banter-to-Love Rich Famous Boy × Normal Sarcastic Girl "I hate girls" × "Cool, I'm not one of them" Enemies-to-Lovers (but she's not even trying) Fangirl-Proof Heroine Emotionally Constipated Boy Hard. And first.

Shivangi Rathore Singhania-heir to the Singhania Empire, only daughter of a fallen legacy. After the tragic death of her parents, she has only one mission: to unite the children of her father's best friends... no matter what it takes. Six names. Six players in a dangerous game. Rayan Marco De Luca & Reva Marco De Luca - the Italian Mob Boss and princess cloaked in shadows, cousins to Shivangi, feared for the darkness they hide behind their crowns. Avinash Singh Rajvansh & Akshita Singh Rajvansh - siblings whose obsession with the De Luca heirs blurs the line between love and possession, blind to the strings Shivangi pulls from behind the curtain. And then there is Shivansh Rajawat Malhotra - Shivangi's loyal secretary. Or is he? The man who breathes only for her, yet conceals a truth that could upend every alliance, every secret, every obsession. In a world where love is a weapon, loyalty is a myth, and power is the only currency... one question remains: Who is playing whom? A dark romance of obsession, manipulation, and hidden identities- because love is a game of power, and we are all just pawns. Started - 8 September 2025 Ended -

ᴾʳᵉᵗᵗʸ ᴿᵘᵈᵉ & ᴾᵉʳᶠᵉᶜᵗˡʸ ᵂʳᵒⁿᵍ (●˙▿˙●)۶...⋆ฺ ♡Dr. Nia Rathore isn't rude in the ugly way...she is rude in the sharp, principled, unapologetically honest way. •She is strict. •She is intimidating. •She shut downs disrespect in seconds. •She doesn't soften for arrogance. •She doesn't bend rules for anyone. ~She is the "rude professor" who doesn't smile, doesn't flirt, doesn't tolerate nonsense. But?... °°°He finds her "pretty when she is rude" because her attitude is exactly what he respects, what calms him, what shapes him°°° 。.:☆* ♡Samar vardhan is everything Nia shouldn't get involved with... • He is younger. • He is her student. • He is arrogant. • He is impulsive. • He breaks rules. ~From the world's perspective, he is the wrong choice for her. •Professionally wrong. •Socially wrong. •Morally debated. 》》》But emotionally? ●He fits her too perfectly. ●He listens only to her. ●He changed himself for her. ●He respects her. ●He becomes softer, calmer, more disciplined in her presence. °°°He is..."Perfectly Wrong" for everyone else, but "Perfectly right" for her°°° ●○●○●○●●Together they are "Pretty Rude & Perfectly Wrong"●○●○●○●○ ♡A strict professor who refuses disrespect. X ♡A stubborn wrestler who respects only her 》》》Two people society says shouldn't happen- yet they happened beautifully《《《 ☆*:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

The room was silent-too silent. The kind that made even the ticking clock sound like a scream. Every pair of eyes was fixed on the woman standing at the head of the table. Roohani Singhania. And the reason three grown men were visibly sweating despite the perfectly functioning air conditioning. Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she walked toward the trembling senior executive. The contract in her hand flapped like a death warrant. "You really thought I wouldn't notice this?" Her tone was calm-too calm. The kind of calm that made even the bravest want to run. "Ms. Singhania, I-" The papers landed on the table with a snap. "Get. Out." He didn't wait to be told twice. He bolted, leaving behind his dignity and a very awkward silence. For a moment, the Ice Queen simply stood there, her sharp gaze scanning the table full of terrified subordinates. Then- Clink. A cup of coffee slid to a stop beside her hand. "Extra strong. No sugar. Just how you like it." Her eyes flickered upward, meeting the calm brown ones of Mahir Sehgal-her personal assistant, the only man in the building who seemed immune to her frostbite. "You were five minutes late," she said coolly, though her fingers curled around the cup. "Traffic," he said with a grin that didn't quite hide the teasing in his eyes. "Or maybe I was just waiting for your dramatic exit moment. You know, timing." Her lips twitched-almost a smile.. "Meeting's over," Mahir said, gathering her things with practiced ease.Roohani rolled her eyes and turned, her heels clicking with authority. Mahir followed behind, matching her stride. She was the coldest woman in the business world. He was the only one who could make her laugh... and maybe, one day, melt. But no one-not even the Ice Queen herself-knew that the man who made her coffee also had ice in his veins when he needed to. And this time, she wasn't the only one capable of taming.

The night everything changed, it was raining. At eighteen, she arrived home clutching a miracle-her debut manuscript, But the celebration died in her throat. In the backyard, under a weeping sky, her father was digging. The hole was long, narrow, and deep. A grave. For her. Nandini ran. She scrambled over the fence, her leg catching on jagged metal. Blood-bright, hot-sprayed across the mud, soaking the pages of the manuscript she dropped in her terror. She vanished into the darkness, leaving her heart's work to be buried in the very earth intended for her body. But the grave didn't stay empty. The mixture of her blood and the ink of her "Villain" acted as a dark alchemy. As the rain flooded the pit, the shadows began to scream. A hand, cold and powerful, clawed out of the muck. Sylus. The monster she had penned to suffer. He crawled into reality with one singular, necrotic purpose- ' To find the author who wrote his tragedy and make her bleed for every word.' FIVE YEARS LATER- The world knows her as 'Luna' , the reclusive literary titan. Tonight, the masks come off. She believes the girl who ran through the rain is dead. She believes her secrets are buried. She is wrong. Yashvardhan Singhania. In five years, He has conquered the world, rising from a grave to become a MAFIA kingpin more feared than any fiction. He came here to finish her. He came to watch the light leave her eyes. But as he looks down at her-his "Little Swan"-the hatred that kept him alive for half a decade mutters a silent prayer. The killer doesn't strike. Instead, He falls. His obsession shifts from murder to a terrifying, divine devotion. She is his architect - she is his religion. He will wrap his dark energy around her until she can breathe only his air. But as Yashvardhan watches her from the dark, he feels a shiver of familiar ice. He knows the truth of that rainy night. He wasn't the only nightmare that crawled out of the ink.

тяιρριиg σи му ѕσυℓ ☆*:.｡. •••Dr.Vidhi Maheshwari has always loved loudly-children, laughter, life••• 》》》But when the one man who felt like home suddenly disappeared from her life, her heart refused to accept silence as an answer. •••Dr.Krunal Rathore knows what it meant to lose control-of love, of trust, of himself••• 》》》Haunted by a past mistake, he chooses distance over desire, believing that some people are too good to be untouched by his brokenness. ♡But then she walked into his city, his hospital, and his home and everything he was running from stood right in front of him. ●She believes love means staying. ●He believes love means letting go. 🌷Loving him meant losing balance-and still she choose to fall. 🫀He stumbled over his own heart and called it protection. 🤧She didn't trip over love, She tripped over the silence he left behind. (*˘︶˘*).｡.:*♡ Tripping on My Soul~ is about two people stumbling through love while learning how to heal together. It's not about falling apart...🥀 It's about losing balance while finding your way back...💌 ~Gleam_tales06 🎀

ᵀʰᵉ ᴿʰʸᵗʰᵐ-Some hearts don't fall in love...they fall into rhythm.(o˘◡˘o) .｡.:*♡💌 In the noise of hospital hallways and the hush of night shifts, two rhythms collide... Hers, wild and bright; his, quiet and steady. .｡.☆Dr. Aisha Kapoor heals with laughter. .｡.☆Dr. Aarav Mehra heals with silence. 🎀Neighbors by chance. 🎀Colleagues by fate. And somewhere between blabbered words and unspoken emotions - love begins to take the shape. .｡.:*♡💌 In a world of broken hearts and healing hands, Aisha's laughter meets Aarav's silence - and together, they find a rhythm neither of them knew they were searching for... ~Gleam_tales06