#3 in India (10/10/23) ••• "Listen to me, Do not expect anything from me or this marriage. I only married you because of my baba." His every word pierced through her soul. He didn't wait for her reply, he wasn't expecting any reply from her, she never opens her mouth in front of him. Hayder stood up and was about to go to washroom to change. "I married you because of my mother, otherwise you can never be my ideal choice" Hyra's words made him stop on his track. Turning to her, he saw her standing beside the bed, looking at him with challenging eyes. Her words irked him, going to her, he held her arm tightly in his hand. "Don't you dare to talk back to me otherwise I will cut your tongue." He warned her in a low, dangerous tone. "Ouch!" A soft whimper left her mouth, she tried to free her arm from him. Her eyes brimmed with tears. He was holding her arm very tightly, it might leave bruise later. He left her arm. "One more thing, whatever happened in this room should stay in this room. If you complain to anyone about anything, you will see the worst side of mine." Before leaving, he told her. "You can not be anymore worst." Hyra mumbles to herself, wiping her tears. •••

He was born to rule; on land and high in the skies. She, it seemed, was born to reign over him. He had defied all odds in his life. She was hell-bent on deifying him. Murtasim Shahnawaz Khan's destiny had been written for him; to take over his family's ancestral seat as a feudal lord and live his life for the people. He'd altered destiny. A man of iron-clad principles, he'd silenced all who dared to question him by becoming Khan Murtasim Khan and Captain Khan simultaneously. He did his duty and indulged in his passion. Why did he have to choose one? He made the rules after all... Meerab Waqas Ahmed didn't like rules. Especially ones made to control her, or any woman for that matter. Out with the old, in with the 'whatever the hell I want to do' was the way it worked in Meerab's world. If this meant deifying family tradition to pave her own way in the world, then she was willing to pay the price for her independence. They say if you play with fire, you're bound to burn, but doesn't ice burn the warm-blooded too? Fire and ice went hand in hand, just like desire and destruction. Note: This story is not completely 'mature'. It may include parts which are mature but can be enjoyed otherwise as well. This wonderful, amazing cover is by moonshine1_ 🤍

A collection of some of my favourite muslim/desi romantic stories