𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚'𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒔𝒐𝒏. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒅, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒂 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎. 𝑯𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒎𝒂'𝒔 𝒃𝒐𝒚, 𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒚 𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓'𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒇𝒆. 𝑰𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏, 𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒊𝒕. 𝑺𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒂𝒈𝒆, 𝒑𝒖𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒆𝒇𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒆𝒇𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚. 𝑯𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒔, 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒇𝒂𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒔. 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒏, 𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒂 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒉 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒔 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔. 𝑯𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒛𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒖𝒊𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒂𝒈𝒆. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒃𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏, 𝒔𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒕𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅. 𝑺𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕.

𝐙𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐟 𝐃𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐢, 18-year-old, is forcefully married to the 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐲𝐚𝐫 𝐊𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐳𝐚𝐢, 32, eldest heir of her family's sworn enemy. The nikkah happens with them in different rooms. They have never seen each other before, their faces are still unknown to one another. For him, this marriage isn't love. It's revenge. A boy from the girl's family, her creepy cousin, tried to harass his sister. So he took revenge by kidnapping the girl and forcing her into marriage. When the ceremony finishes, his voice turns cold as he orders his men... "𝐈𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐫𝐢 𝐠𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐢 𝐦𝐞𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢 𝐥𝐞 𝐣𝐚𝐨." (𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘪 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘳.) Two cars drive into the dark night. A few moments later, a loud explosion breaks the silence. Shehriyar's car bursts into flames and is completely covered in fire.

"Kanya ki maang me sindoor bhare," the priest said solemnly, his eyes moving between the bride and the groom. As those words echoed through the sacred space, a strange heaviness settled in Nisha's heart. In that single moment, she realized the truth-this man standing beside her was now her home, her family, her entire world. She belonged to him now, because there was no one else left for her in this world. No parents, no shelter, no one to call her own. She was paying the price for a mistake she had never committed. Bearing the punishment for a sin she had never even imagined. Fate had been cruel, unfair, and merciless with her. Her hands trembled beneath the red bridal cloth as silent tears burned in her eyes. The weight of the moment pressed down on her chest, making it hard to breathe. Every ritual felt less like a celebration and more like a chain binding her to a destiny she had never chosen. Just then, she felt a sudden movement. Strong fingers gently lifted her veil. Her breath caught as her world shifted. The man before her-Uday Singh Rana-was now her husband. She raised her eyes slowly, her heart pounding uncontrollably. This unfamiliar face, this stranger, was now the person she would have to live with, trust, and call her own. Fear and uncertainty swirled within her, but there was no way back. The past was already buried, and the future had been decided without her consent. As their eyes met for the first time, Nisha knew one thing for certain-her life had changed forever. SOME DIALOGUES ARE IN HINDI,WITH NO TRANSACTION IN ENGLISH!!✋🏻💥🔗

#1- 1990s [15/02/26] #2 - 1990s [07/01/26] #126 - Wattpad [15/02/26] #147 - Wattpad [30/01/26] #164 - Wattpad [23/01/26] #172 - Wattpad [11/01/26] Her mother watched her for a moment, then spoke again-this time more deliberate, like she was counting beads on a mala. "Aur sirf roti banana hi kaafi nahi hota, Janvi," she said, turning the tawa. Janvi looked up. "Toh aur kya-kya hota hai maa?" Her mother sighed, not tired-just seasoned. "Sab kaam seekhne padte hain. Kapde dhona, bartaan manjhna, subah sabse pehle uthna..." She continued, as if listing everyday items from memory. "Saree pehnna dhang se, pallu sambhalna, ghunghat mein chalna..." Janvi wrinkled her nose. "Ghunghat mein? Maa, dikhega bhi kuch ya bas andhere mein hi chalna padega? Nah baba nah, hum gir gaye toh...Hum nahi daalenge ghunghat vunghat." Her mother smiled briefly but didn't stop. "Aur baat-baat par zubaan sambhalni hoti hai. Bade-buzurgon se izzat se baat, aur..." she paused for half a second, then added, "Pati jo kahe, usse bhi tameez aur adab se sunna hota." Janvi's hands stilled again. "Har baat?" "Har baat," her mother replied quietly. The silence stretched, broken only by the hiss of a roti puffing up. Janvi looked down at the dough stuck to her fingers, then muttered, half-joking, half-serious, "Maa, yeh sasural hai ya gulaami?" Her mother let out a soft, knowing laugh. "Dono samajh le," she said. She handed Janvi a finished roti. "Isliye kehti hoon-yahan seekh le. Baad mein wahan koi sikhata nahi, bas umeed karta hai..aur umeedo pe nahi khade utarne pe sirf taane."

#𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝟏| "𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐈𝐍" | 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘 Started at: 23rd December, 2025 They call me a slut, a mistress, a homewrecker... a 𝐊𝐄𝐏𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍. Am I really a kept woman if I didn't participate in this affair willingly?... Why should an innocent woman be expected to take accountability for an action done by an unfaithful man? Was yearning for love my biggest mistake? ──── ✮ ──── 𝐀 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐬. This work contains triggering content intended for mature audience. Reader discretion is advised.

She opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the blur of soft golden lights and the scent of fresh roses hanging heavy in the air. The room around her was beautifully decorated - delicate drapes, scattered petals, and a faint sound of wedding music still echoing in the distance. But something felt wrong. Terribly wrong. Her breath caught in her throat. Why was she here? This wasn't her dream. This wasn't her day. It was her step-sister's wedding. So why was she the one waking up in this bridal chamber? Heart pounding, she turned toward the ornate mirror at the far end of the room. But the moment her eyes met her reflection, her world shattered. A strangled scream tore from her lips. The heavy door burst open, and people rushed in, gasping at the sight before them - horror etched on every face. But one pair of eyes didn't look shocked. One pair of eyes... burned with pure hatred. Still trembling, she turned again to the mirror. The black beaded mangalsutra around her neck didn't belong to her. The vermilion boldly streaked across her hairline was not hers to wear. It wasn't meant for her. It wasn't chosen for her. It wasn't wanted by her. It was meant for her step-sister. But now... it marked her - Aavya Verma. And in one cruel twist of fate, she was bound in a marriage she never chose, cloaked in a tradition that now felt like a curse. The vermilion on her forehead wasn't a symbol of love - it was a mark of betrayal, of forced destiny. She was never meant to be a bride. But she became one. Not by choice... Not by love... But by someone else's decision.

Ishita Verma never prayed for love. She prayed for escape. Aarav Rajput never believed in destiny. He believed in control. One impulsive moment inside a temple binds two strangers into a marriage neither of them planned, wanted, or understood. A secret husband. A hidden wife. A cold CEO and an introverted girl pretending to be strangers in public. This is not a love story that begins with romance. This is a marriage that learns how to survive before it learns how to feel. Note: Guys this story's plot struck me suddenly and I tried to make it as better as possible from my imagination. Guys please follow atleast till part 30 if you feel it is not what you thought it would be. I am a first time writer so I hope everyone will support me and help me grow ❤️

Meet Krishna Shetty, a 23-year-old village girl who moved to Bangalore with big dreams and a heart full of responsibilities. Working tirelessly at a reputed company, she shoulders the burden of caring for her 10-year-old brother, Rudra, so her parents can finally rest. Her life is simple, filled with struggles, sacrifice, and silent strength-until one fateful night changes everything. Nishan Sinha, 27, a name that strikes fear in the underworld. A ruthless mafia leader and his enemies' worst nightmare. But beneath his intimidating exterior lies a brother who would burn the world to protect his younger sister-the only family he has left. When fate weaves their paths together in the most unexpected way, a storm brews-one of vengeance, mystery, and emotions neither of them saw coming. As secrets unravel and loyalties are tested, will love bloom where hatred thrives? If you're ready for a story of heartbreak, revenge, and forbidden love, dive into "The Mafia's Forbidden Flame" - where two souls from different worlds collide and nothing is ever the same again.

The Sindoor Khela had begun. Women, draped in traditional red-and-white sarees, danced and laughed as they applied vermilion to each other's cheeks and foreheads, blessing each other with long, happy marriages. The air was electric with joy and nostalgia. But on the far side of the crowd, things were far less serene. Vaibhav Bajaj, having just returned from the business meeting, had barely loosened his collar before he was pulled aside by his BROTHERS, Kartik and Utkarsh, both covered in streaks of red powder and sweat. "KARTIK!" Vaibhav shouted, lunging after him. The chase was on. Laughing, the three boys ran through the crowd, dodging aunties, side-stepping plates of sweets, and narrowly missing an idol-bearer. And Vaibhav - in full sprint - collided. Smack. He slammed right into someone turning the corner from the other side. Mihiksha. She had been holding a brass thali, full of sindoor, sweets, and a small diya. The tray wobbled, spun - and tipped forward. In that single, fateful second- Vaibhav's hand instinctively reached out to stop the tray. But instead - his palm struck the center of her forehead. Right above the eyebrows. Right where the sindoor should be. Red powder exploded between them, dusting the air, staining both of their faces - but none more strikingly than Mihiksha Roy, who now stood, stunned, as a perfect streak of sindoor glowed across her maang. It looked like he had married her. Silence fell. All the shouting, music, and laughter seemed to vanish into a vacuum. Vaibhav blinked. His hand still hovered near her forehead. His breath caught in his throat. And Mihiksha- Her eyes were wide, dark pools of disbelief. The moment stretched too long. She slowly touched her forehead. Realization hit her like lightning. Gasps rippled through the crowd. Like dominos, people turned, stared, whispered. One aunty dropped her sweet plate. Another covered her mouth. And then- "HE PUT SINDOOR ON HER!"

Forced into a marriage she never wanted. Claimed by the man she fears the most. Loved by the one she swore to hate. This is not a sweet love story. This is obsession. This is dark romance.