Piya Tose Naina Lage Re, Naina Lage Re Jaane Kya Ho Ab Aage Re..... they trip, they blush, they laugh, and somewhere between the chaos, love finds them first. She walks with confidence even when she trips, flips her hair like falling was intentional, and owns every mistake before the world can comment. Clumsy? Absolutely. But never embarrassed. Her words are quick, her comebacks quicker, and her smile carries a kind of sass that refuses pity. She may drop her books, miss a step, or spill her coffee but.... she never drops her self-respect. Messy, bold, unapologetic... and very aware of her worth. He carries himself with an easy confidence, the kind that doesn't need to be loud, even when his hands betray him and his feet forget their job. He trips, stumbles, messes up... then smirks like the world was testing him and failed. Clumsy, yes, but never unsure of who he is. His silence has weight, his words come slow but sharp, and his presence feels steady even when chaos follows him. He doesn't try to impress... he just exists, unapologetically.. and somehow, that's what makes him unforgettable. And together, both are clumsy in their own ways, confident enough to laugh it off and sharp enough not to care. Around each other, mistakes feel lighter, silences feel easier, and falling doesn't seem so bad....because neither of them is falling alone. Writing my own version of love here....and inspired by the og's @deewanixwriters

She wears the uniform of the Pakistani Army. Discipline is her religion. The country is her first love. An undercover officer trained to dismantle threats before they surface, she lives by strategy, silence, and sacrifice. Cruelty is not emotion for her. It is duty. Every choice she makes is measured against one oath she never questions. He enters her life carrying secrets of his own. An Indian intelligence operative trained to deceive with restraint and precision, hiding behind charm and calculated calm. Two people raised under opposite flags, drawn into each other without knowing the truth they are standing on. Neither of them is innocent. Neither of them is safe. As multiple lives and loyalties collide, missions overlap, trust fractures, and love becomes a liability. What begins as attraction slowly turns into a war of truths, where every revelation costs something irreversible. She will choose duty. He will choose his mission. Or so it seems. Because when the final truth surfaces, one question changes everything. What if they were never fighting each other at all? What if they were fighting for the same country all along? What if betrayal was never betrayal at all? What if loyalty was only wearing the wrong flag? And what if the deadliest truth is this Both of them were fighting for the same nation, just in different ways. Dive in to a story where enemies fall, secrets rise, and loyalty chooses its own side.

They don't whisper her name... They spit it. A woman with a smile that never reaches her eyes... One who knows exactly where to hurt... and chooses to strike anyway. Her words cut... her silence threatens. She doesn't cry... plead... or explain. In a society built on obedience... she is defiance. In a world that worships motherhood... she is called monstrous. She walks like guilt has never touched her... like remorse never learned her name. They say she ruined homes... broke traditions... valued power and pride over love... over life. To them... she is everything a good woman should never be. She laughs at rituals... mocks emotions... turns away from begging eyes. And then there is the rumor... the one spoken only in shadows... about her first child. A daughter who never lived long enough to be named... a death blamed on the mother who never mourned in public. No tears... no prayers... no grief. So they decide she didn't survive it... she caused it. Because devils don't have pasts... they are simply born evil... or so they believe.

Home is supposed to be a place that holds you. But sometimes, it learns to hurt you first. This is the story of a father and daughter - two lives shaped by the same walls: one taught to endure, and one forced to remember. Not bloodlines or battles. Just the quiet war of being called "family."