✨ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 ✨ Some stories begin with love. Some begin with a glance. And some begin with a photograph lying quietly on a table... while two completely different worlds move unknowingly toward each other. In the heart of Lucknow stood the Rathore residence-a grand old bungalow that had witnessed generations grow, laugh, argue, celebrate, and fall in love. Its walls carried stories. Its corridors remembered footsteps. Its mornings began with prayers, tea, and family voices echoing through the house. It was home to the Rathores. A family respected by many, feared by some, and loved by those who knew them closely. Yet behind the discipline, traditions, and family reputation, a conversation had been repeating itself for years. A conversation about marriage. A conversation one particular Rathore was tired of hearing. Because some people carried responsibilities that made them hesitate before making promises. And some mothers carried dreams that refused to give up. Neither side was willing to surrender. Unfortunately for them... Fate had already made its decision. Somewhere else in the same city, completely unaware of the storm quietly gathering around her, a girl continued living her life. Unaware that strangers would soon speak her name. Unaware that a photograph would soon travel from one house to another. Unaware that one day, someone would look at her and call her... "Biwi." And when that day came- Nothing would remain the same. Not for him. Not for her. And certainly not for the families about to become entangled in each other's lives. This wasn't a story about love at first sight. This was the story of a Major who never planned to fall in love... And the woman who would become the most important mission of his life.

The heavy teak door of the bridal chamber clicked shut behind them, sealing the world outside. Soft golden light from the bedside lamps fell on the marigold and rose petals scattered across the bed, but the air inside felt colder than the winter night in Delhi. Aarav Goenka sat motionless in his wheelchair, his broad shoulders rigid under the crisp white kurta. The medals on his chest from years of service caught the light, but his face remained shadowed-sharp jaw clenched, dark eyes burning with something far colder than duty. Scars peeked from the collar of his shirt, reminders of battles fought in shadows. Nandani stood a few steps away, her red lehenga heavy with intricate gold zari work, the dupatta slipping slightly from her shoulders. Aarav's voice sliced through the silence, low and venomous. "I hate you for saying yes to this marriage." His words landed like bullets. Nandani flinched, her breath catching in her throat. "And remember it always," he continued, eyes never leaving hers, "I will hate you more every single day." Tears welled up in Nandani's eyes, spilling over without warning. They traced silent paths down her cheeks, smudging the carefully applied kajal. Her voice came out broken, barely a whisper. "I... I d-don't-" Before she could finish, Aarav gripped the wheels of his chair. With a sharp turn, he propelled himself toward the door. The wheels left faint tracks on the petal-strewn floor as he moved away from her, away from the bed, away from everything this night was supposed to mean. The door opened with a low creak. Cold air rushed in from the corridor. Without another word or backward glance, he wheeled himself out, leaving her alone in the decorated room-tears flowing freely now, her words unfinished, her heart already cracking under the weight of a love that had not yet begun.

𝙏𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝘼𝙧𝙢𝙮, 𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙥𝙤𝙣. 𝙏𝙤 𝙝𝙚𝙧, 𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙖 𝙝𝙪𝙨𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙙. 𝙈𝙖𝙟𝙤𝙧 𝙍𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙗𝙝 𝙍𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙚 doesn't make mistakes, he doesn't break protocols. So when he married the daughter of his retired senior, 𝘾𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙡 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙝𝙤𝙩𝙧𝙖, the cantonment whispered. Was it a scandal? A debt? Or a cold, calculated move for promotion? 🥀 𝙄𝙧𝙖 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙝𝙤𝙩𝙧𝙖 💅✨is a landslide in a world of his rigid boundaries. She is the trouble he was never trained to handle- a sharp-tounged patola. 𝙐𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙡 𝙖 𝙜𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙚𝙙. With realization that his heart might already be occupied by love that died-but remained. In a world of 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘩 𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘦 is the rule, she wonders if she even makes the top three. "𝘔𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘱𝘺𝘢𝘢𝘳 𝘬𝘪𝘺𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘢, 𝘙𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘣𝘩... 𝘪𝘲𝘳𝘢𝘳 𝘬𝘪𝘺𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘢. 𝘛𝘶𝘮𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘩 𝘣𝘢𝘴..."She whispered. 𝘻𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘢𝘢𝘳𝘪 𝘢𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘩𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘬𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘩 𝘭𝘰, 𝘐𝘳𝘢. 𝘒𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘬𝘪 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪 𝘥𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘺𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘰 𝘬𝘪 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘮 𝘫𝘢𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘬𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘪 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢 𝙝𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙨 𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙧. 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙜𝙚 𝙝𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙩𝙝🇮🇳❤‍🔥

A girl who just lost her everything. Her brother. But, someone enters her life✨👀 you'll find after reading the book🎀 you'll find romance, heartbreak, comedy everything in this book🫶🏻

He carried a gun for the nation. She carried a pen for the truth. Meera Sharma was everything society feared in a woman-fearless, outspoken, independent, and impossible to control. Her words exposed monsters hiding behind power. A proud devotee of Krishna, she believed faith was strength, not weakness. She bowed only to God and truth. Madhav Rathore was everything the nation admired in a man-disciplined, courageous, silent, and willing to die before he ever bowed. He carried duty in his bones and storms behind calm eyes. A man who chose the nation before himself. When a stubborn author collides with a decorated army officer from Haryana, sparks fly, egos clash, and hearts begin a war of their own. But love was never the problem. Duty was. Because some women are born to be heal... and some men are born to become legends. A story of love, sacrifice, pride, and the kind of goodbye that never truly ends. She prayed to Krishna. He prayed for his men to come home alive. She wrote revolutions. He lived them. A fearless author from Vrindavan. A silent soldier from Haryana. A love story caught between devotion and duty.

Major Harshwardhan Malhotra does not believe in coincidences, and he certainly does not believe in feelings. In his world, everything is planned, controlled, and executed without hesitation. Then Dr. Tara Vashishth walks into his unit. She laughs too loudly, talks too freely, and refuses to be intimidated by his rank. No one understands why the strictest Major becomes unusually quiet around her. Now the real question isn't whether he'll fall. It's whether he'll ever admit it.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ☾. 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 💌 ✦ ₊ ⊹ 𓂃 ना हमारा हुआ, ना तुम्हारा हुआ... इश्क़ का ये सितम ना गवारा हुआ... 𓂃♡𓂃 ढलती रात का इक मुसाफ़िर, सुबह अलविदा कह चला... जीते जी तेरा हो सका ना, मरके हक़ अदा कर चला... 𓆩♡𓆪 He held her hand, his eyes softer than they've ever been,"Bas ek baar bol de abhi le jaata hoon in sabse chura ke." ☾⋆⁺₊✧ She shook her head with teary eyes,"Main nahi aa paungi..." ❀༉‧₊˚. He kissed her forehead,"Theek hai phir yaad rakhna meri jaan... Main wapas aaya toh...Bina tere nahi jaunga." 𓂃𓈒𓏸 and he came back. He kept his word but just not in the way she could survive. Anshu Dahiya is everything her world asked her to be controlled, composed, and silent when it matters the most. 𓇢𓆸 She learned early that love is not something you choose. It's something you sacrifice. And she did. Until life gave her something worth fighting for and then took it away just as easily. 𓂃♡𓂃 ☾𖤓 So she chooses the only thing that still connects her to what she lost. The uniform because letting go was never an option. ❦ Meanwhile, other hearts bloom and other hearts break. 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 The man Ishmeet Randhawa loved for all her life lost his heart hopelessly to the only woman he shouldn't. Leaving Arshdeep Maan torn between the girl he'd do anything for... the girl he can give everything except that part of his heart and the girl he was never supposed to fall for. 𓆩♡𓆪 ✧ 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐒 ✧ ୨୧ He Falls First, He Falls Hard ୨୧ Run Away Marriage(Rivals) ୨୧Village Dynamics ୨୧ Air Force × Boxer ୨୧ Army × Actress ୨୧ Veer Nari / Widow Protagonist ୨୧ Love After Loss ୨୧ Slow Burn ୨୧ Marriage of Convenience

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊⠀✦・❝ दीवाने हम नहीं होते..दीवानी रात आती है.. ❝ मोहब्बत की नहीं जाती...मोहब्बत आज़माती है ❞ ✦・゜・✦・゜・✦ ⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ⊹𓂃 ⊹𓂃 "They did not ask whether I was innocent. They only asked how soon I could be buried." ⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ⊹𓂃 ⊹𓂃 ☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩ Captain Irfan Qureshi... a name once spoken like prayer in barracks full of dust and discipline decorated ✦ trusted ✦ untouchable until one mission broke him open and the nation he bled for learned a new language for him traitor ✦・゜・✦・゜・✦ blood in silence orders unspoken truth buried under uniforms and a man still standing... even when everything said he should have fallen ⠀⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ 𓂃 ♡ 𓂃 and then she arrives Tejaswini Rao like a verdict wrapped in softness like justice dressed as a woman beautiful in restraint an intelligence analyst trained to see lies and trained to end them to her... he is not a story he is a case file closed. condemned. finished but some eyes refuse to stay facts and some silences sound like something breaking ⠀⠀⠀✦・゜・✦・゜・✦ he does not beg he does not defend he simply... exists with a grief too disciplined to spill and that is where it begins not with love but with recognition 𓂃 ⊹𓂃 ⊹𓂃 between interrogations and courtrooms between questions that cuts and answers that never arrive something shifts slowly dangerously devastatingly soft ⠀⠀⠀⠀♡ hatred forgets its certainty duty forgets its direction truth forgets whose side it is on and love... love arrives like a mistake that feels like home ✦・゜・✦・゜・✦ around them hearts begin to fracture quietly a friend who should not ache for her. And when the verdict finally falls... iit will be soft like a hand