Silk saree. Diamond necklace. Red lips. A wealthy man's possession. A mistress. Her fingers slowly touched the fading bruise near her collarbone before quickly moving away, as though even she could not bear touching herself anymore. Outside the locked bedroom, laughter and music echoed through the mansion halls. Another party. Another night where powerful people would stare at her with curiosity, pity, or hidden mockery. "That's Abhinandan Varada's mistress" "She used to be a classical dancer, right?" "What a waste." The whispers never ended. Ahalya closed her eyes tightly. Once, people looked at her with admiration. Now they looked at her like sin A knock came at the door. "Madam,""Sir is calling you downstairs." Her stomach tightened instantly. Fear had become instinct now. Ahalya wiped her tears before they could fall and forced herself to stand. No matter how broken she felt... He would still call. And she would still go. Because Abhinandan Varada always got what he wanted. Always. She slowly walked through the grand corridors of the mansion that looked more like a golden cage than a home. Guards lowered their heads as she passed. No one met her eyes. No one dared. There Abhinandan sat lazily on the couch, glass of whiskey in one hand, looking powerful enough to own the entire world. And maybe he did. But the moment his eyes landed on her, something dangerous softened in his expression. "There you are, little doe." The endearment made her chest ache. A year ago, she had been a rising dancer with dreams in her eyes. Now she trembled hearing a man call her with affection. He opened one arm toward her casually. "Come here." Ahalya stood frozen. Every instinct inside her wanted to run. But there was nowhere left to run anymore. Because the cruelest thing about Abhinandan Varada was not his power. Not his anger. Not even the darkness inside him. It was the way he destroyed her life... And then loved her among the ruins.

"The things I did to stay sane without you" He groaned. I looked up as I felt the hotness on my face and the tingle in my body. I'd missed him a lot and I wasn't used to him anymore, so I was a bit shy. "Day and night I kissed your pics." he buried his face between my breasts, over my shirt and breathed in, his voice trembling and whiny, "Missed your sweet scent." He mumbled through the kisses. He pulled away and held my face with his palms. He touched his forehead to mine and closed his eyes. "Please. I beg of you. Please, wait for me. Don't forget me. Don't move on. I won't be able to handle it." He whispered, his voice cracking at the end as he stared at me with an agonizing look. MATURE AUDIENCE 18+ I AM STILL EDITING OLDER CHAPTERS.

𝐻𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑖𝑙𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑒𝑥𝑖𝑠𝑡. #𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢 𝐌𝐌 𝐒𝐜𝐢-𝐟𝐢 𝐌𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐲-𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𓆩𓆗𓆪 Omkara Rathore doesn't touch. Not his students. Not his colleagues. Not even his own reflection if it gets too close. A medical science professor with a condition he never chose──his skin rejects contact, his body recoils from scents, and his heart has learned that feeling is a wound he cannot afford. So he stays cold. Stays distant. Stays safe. Until Yaksh Shergill walks into his life. A transfer student with a golden smile and eyes that see too much. Humble. Charming. Everyone's favorite. Omkara should hate him. Instead, for the first time in his life── A scent doesn't repulse him. A touch doesn't rebuke him. It pulls. And that terrifies him more than any disease ever could. But Yaksh isn't what he seems either. Behind that warm facade lives something petty. Something possessive. Something that has decided Omkara Rathore is his to follow. To provoke. To ruin. And when a body is found── When a murder cracks open secrets buried inside Omkara's own blood── They will have to trust each other to survive. But how do you trust someone whose very smell makes you lose control? 𓆩𓆗𓆪 𝑇𝑜𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑤𝑎𝑟 ℎ𝑒'𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑦 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑡. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟? 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑎 𝑑𝑖𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑝𝑜𝑖𝑠𝑜𝑛.

𝕾𝖍𝖍𝖍... 𝕳𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖙 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖐𝖊𝖊𝖕. . . . paperback loading <3

The story is set in early 1990s in a rural area. A bond is formed due to the promise of honour and respect. A marriage out of necessity and maybe a little bit of obsession. A girl filled with the hope of love and a guy completely enamored by her. How will their life unfold? ☆Warning :This story contains mature themes. It is completely fictional and based upon my imagination. It is inspired by the serial named "Begusarai". But only inspired, the story is completely mine. As I said before this is based in a rural area so am just giving you guys a heads up if anybody feels offended. Readers discretion is advised.

The story is set in late 1980s. A woman who has full faith in her husband and loves him to core and a man who'll do anything to protect his family but finds it hard to express his emotions. Will there story be like every other couple in that era or does fate has something else stored for them? ☆ Warning: This story contains mature themes. Some things (like religion, mention of texts) are written for fictional purposes only. It is completely fictional and based upon my imagination. So I am just giving you guys a heads up if anybody feels offended. Readers discretion is advised.

When Alaia married the billionaire, Agastya Singhania, she was okay to be stepped in a loveless marriage. She knew from the start that she'd always be the Unloved Bride but then what about the soft corner that she's going to develop for her husband? Will she ever be loved even if she loves him with all her heart? Will she ever be enough? How can she be okay with the fact that her husband is still in love with his girlfriend who's dead?

Rabya was unwillingly tied up in a knot of marriage with the only son of a big Zamindar; Adhrit Singh Chauhan. She once had a happy life, trying to achieve her dreams in the metropolitan city by striving to become independent so that she can financially support her family. But then, her one mistake and she was forced to marry Adhrit who's a decade older than her and lives in that regressive part of a small town in Uttar Pradesh where girls are not even allowed to step out of their house. Will Adhrit ever be able to be loved by his wife? Or will she always remain his unwilling bride?

#2 in Top 10 in India on (9/4/26) #1 in Top 10 in India on (12/4/26) Myra sharma had heard his name before she ever saw his face. Armaan Brar. The President of Chandigarh National University. Final-year Political Science student. RSVP's rising youth face. The boy professors avoid. The one students don't look in the eye. The one whose footsteps are enough to silence a corridor. They say he once pulled a gun on campus. They say he wins elections the way he wins fights... ruthlessly. They say crossing him is a mistake you don't repeat twice. And she believes every freaking word. She's just a first-year B.Com student. From a Middle class family, She left Lucknow with dreams in her suitcase. Chandigarh National University was her dream. Her fresh start. Her escape. Living alone in a new city wasn't easy but she was determined. Far away from politics, power, and people like him. Her only goal? Stay invisible, don't get noticed by bullies in college.. But Armaan Brar notices her. And that's where the problem begins. And Armaan Brar has never been gentle about what he wants. Tropes:- - punjabi munda x Brahmin girl - college president x student(1st phase) - MLA x CA Girl (2nd phase) - first love - rich guy x middle class girl - 5 years age gap (don't judge my book with this description there is a lot more about Armaan and Myra, give it a chance please...it's my first story.)

𝐇𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐆𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬. Love is hope for the hopeless and sin for the saint. Love is both a salvation for the lost and a temptation for the righteous. It drives people to cross lines they swore never to. But when two souls intertwine, promising to hold each other till eternity, love becomes something far more profound-both a sin and a salvation.