It's a love story between a bava and his mardhal... a bond that was never supposed to cross the line, yet always hovered close to it. Jahnavi Rao - Rudra's mardhal. Twenty-three, sharp, soft-hearted, studying MBA in Hyderabad. She's loved him for as long as she can remember.... quietly, hopelessly, endlessly. Rudra Pratap Reddy - her bava. Twenty-eight, the village president, an MBA graduate, and the owner of a powerful company in Hyderabad. To him, Jahnavi was always a responsibility... until one day, she became something more. When did Rudra realise his love for the girl he swore to protect? How many storms will they face to stay together? And how far will they go for a love that was written long before they understood it? Let their story begin... 💗💫✨

𝘈 𝘫𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝙎𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝙨𝙞𝙣, 𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙎𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝙙𝙧𝙪𝙜, 𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙎𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙤𝙤𝙡 𝙝𝙚𝙧 This is not a love story that starts with smiles. This is a story that begins with silence, scars, and secrets. Love here is not soft. It is intense. Protective. Dangerous. "I can destroy the world for you... or burn it to protect you." The past refuses to stay buried. Secrets slowly come to the surface. Trust becomes fragile. And every emotion comes with a price. This story explores: Hidden identities and double lives Love that grows in dangerous situations Emotional trauma and silent suffering Power, control, and the cost of loyalty The thin line between obsession and desire

#1 of the love series. He rose slowly, still holding her hands. She stepped closer. Closer. So close that the boat rocked faintly beneath them. Then, standing on her toes slightly, she reached up and held his shoulders to steady herself. He instinctively moved his hands to her waist so she wouldn't lose balance. The anklets chimed softly and then.. she bent her head forward.. slowly. Her forehead touched his. The red kumkum on her forehead brushed against his skin, leaving a faint, sacred mark just above his brows. He froze. Neither of them moved. Her eyes were closed and his breath stopped.. the contact was simple. Sacred. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper, but steady. "If you are my light," she murmured, her forehead still resting against his, "then let me mark you as mine before the world does." She lowered herself slowly, but didn't move away. Her eyes searched his. "You don't need a ring to bind me," she said softly. "And I don't need a ceremony to know what you mean to me." Her fingers brushed the red mark she had left on him. "This," she smiled faintly, "is my answer. My acceptance." His fingers tightened unconsciously around her waist. "I am yours," she whispered. "And you are mine. Not for a moment. But for every day that comes after." And she slowly moved into his embrace and hugged him, holding him a little tighter than usual, like she never wanted to let go. They stayed there for a while longer, not speaking. Everything you're about to read is true... but I've never confessed to him in real life. The story ends with a plot twist my real life hasn't caught up to yet. This story is written mostly in English (about 98%), with some Telugu (about 2%) along with translations. -------- Happy reading 🩷