She came to Bangalore to chase a career. He saw her once-and never stopped watching. A silent man. A photo. A green saree & A jasmine scent he couldn't forget. What began as stares across rooms turns into obsession, fantasy, and a hotel key that unlocks her body... and his secrets. But when family threats force him to vanish, she builds a new life-until fate throws them back into each other's arms across continents. He never moved on. She never forgave. Now all that's left is what happens between shadows, sheets, and second chances. A slow-burn, age-gap, steamy romance set between Bangalore and Berlin. Where the heat never cools... even when the rain falls. Rated: MATURE / 18+ Main Characters Aarav Age: 30 Height: 6'2" Profession: Silent investor in an architecture firm Personality: Quiet, mysterious, extremely protective, and possessive Desires: Dominant. Silent watcher. Worships her body like ritual. Vaani Subramaniam Age: 21 Height: 5'2" Background: From a traditional Tamil Brahmin family Profession: UX designer in a Bangalore startup Personality: Smart, emotional, secretly wild. Desires: Wants to be loved fiercely, to feel chosen, to break out of control Side Characters Dev Aarav's younger brother Vaani's friendly co-worker, sweet and fun Unknowingly the reason they met Mrs. and Mr. Devraj Traditional South Indian parents Love their sons but hold strict expectations Deepak (brief role) Charming on the outside, disloyal inside

"In a kingdom chained by royal vows and burning betrayals, Princess Samyukta must fight the suffocating silence of her heart as love, loyalty, and power collide in a war where her dignity is the ultimate battleground." . . 1st book of veins (historical) series . . Happy reading

She was raised to stay hidden. He was destined to claim her. Mariam Ansari grew up far from the blood-soaked corridors of power, in a quiet lane in Kochi with a mother who feared the past and a father who never spoke of it. But her destiny had tied her to the most feared heir of North India's underworld. Vedant Yadav, son of the brutal Yadav family. A name that makes politicians fold and police officers vanish. Bound by prophecy, he was promised a bride: a girl with a name written into his birth chart by an underworld astrologer. And now, he has come to claim her. In a world of old bloodlines, deadly loyalty, and ancient rituals, one woman's will may be the only thing standing between love and destruction.

She sells flowers outside a temple. He sells bodies behind closed doors. Surbhi was never meant to be seen. Not by someone like him. But Yuvaan Chauhan doesn't see-he chooses. And once he chooses... he owns. Poor. Heavy. Naive. She was invisible to the world- Until he looked at her. Now, she's no longer safe. Not from the city. Not from fate. And definitely... not from him. --- "Speak." Arnav's voice trembled. "Sir... problem. Two girls-suicide. One more is missing. We only have one backup. And now..." Yuvaan's voice dropped. Cold. Controlled. Ice. "Then find a fucking replacement, Arnav. I don't care if it's your sister. I want three hundred, not two-ninety-seven. The ship leaves at the fixed time." He exhaled. Not out of emotion-just... maintenance. Then turned to re-enter the hall- -And collided with someone. A brass thali clattered to the ground. Marigold. Jasmine. Rose. Flowers burst like a silent explosion across stone. Surbhi gasped. "S-s-sorry... mujhe maaf kijiye... galti ho gayi..." Yuvaan said nothing. He didn't look at the flowers. He looked at her. Ordinary. Breakable. Alive. A replacement. - A dark, painful love story. Not for the soft-hearted. Read at your own risk. 🖤 - Unauthorized copying, publishing, or translation is strictly prohibited.

They told me the house was empty. That the boy I was supposed to care for wasn't real. Just a doll. Just a job. But then I heard things. Felt things. The whispers in the walls, the way the air shifted like someone was always watching me. I should be scared. I should leave. But there's something about him-something that keeps pulling me back. Maybe it's the loneliness in his voice. Or the way he lingers in the shadows, waiting for me to see him. All I know is... I don't think I want to run anymore.

He was 23, and she was 18. They stood together in the registry office, ready to sign the papers that would officially make them husband and wife. It was a secret marriage-only his friend and his girlfriend knew about it. He signed first, then handed her the pen with a smile, but her heart raced as doubt and insecurity clouded her thoughts. Was this the right decision? What if his father found out about the marriage? Would his family accept an orphan and a maid like her as a daughter-in-law? What if, after fulfilling his desires, he grew tired of her and abandoned her? She had no one to stand up for her, no one to turn to if things went wrong. Was it true love, or was he simply lusting after her? Why would a billionaire's son want her? He could have anyone-maybe even a movie star-but he chose her. Why? Despite her fears, her love for him was genuine. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to meet his, her insecurities weighing heavy on her heart. He took her hand in his, offering a gentle squeeze, then motioned for her to sign the papers. With a quiet nod, she did. His friends clapped and congratulated the couple, each one signing as a witness on the papers. Now, legally, they were husband and wife. But to the outside world, she was nothing more than a maid in his house.

"Your love is as pure as your name Jamuna." he said as he kissed her temples. "And that is what I'm afraid of." She murmured back. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Jamuna , the only girl child of an ordinary brahmin family, did the unthinkable. She fell in love. She fell in love with a prince, who conquered her kingdom by defeating their just king. But in this medieval period where orthodoxy thrived will the flower of their pure and innocent love blossom. Or will their love be murdered like always.

A woman in her thirties. A housewife. Once a orphan. Once a loner. A young cricketer in his twenties. A heartthrob celebrity. Always a charmer. Always a popular. Sadhna was a simple woman who dreamt of a happily ever after with a prince charming and cute babies. It was perfectly said that dreams hardly came true. And for Sadhna, they never did. She had accepted her reality and life of never ending hopelessness and compromise. Just when life couldn't have gotten worse, she met a young celebrity cricketer. For her, he was a star, so far and bright. Yet, he chose to be her personal light, happiness, and love provider. What we want is often different from what god planned for us. And for Sadhna, her reality was about to turn better than a dream, more than a simple happily ever after.

As I sank deeper into the blissful comfort, a gentle warmth enveloped me, stirring my senses. I shifted, seeking more comfort, and nestled my head into the soft-yet-firm pillow I'd been cradling for what felt like an eternity. But the warmth soon spread to my cheeks, beckoning me to surrender further. Just as I realized my tranquil slumber was ending, the soft morning light danced across my eyelids, and I succumbed to its gentle persuasion. As my eyes opened, I froze, startled. Instead of a pillow, my head rested on the chiseled, bare torso of a man I never imagined sharing a bed with. Panic set in, and I hastily lifted my throbbing head. My favorite peacock blue chiffon saree lay rumpled on the floor, a stark reminder of the previous night's events. Memories flooded back: Didi's reception, the stinging fat-shaming comments, the four shots of some unknown shit, and the desperate longing to shed my perpetual singleton status. Shame, guilt, and anguish welled up, threatening tears to spill out. Ignoring my pounding heart and aching head, I sat up and swung my legs over the bed, ready to flee. But a warm hand enveloped my freezing wrist, halting my escape. "Where are you going?" a deep, velvety voice whispered, sending shivers down my spine. ******* At 23, Antara had resigned herself to perpetual singleness, blaming her curvaceous figure for her lack of romantic prospects. To shield herself from potential heartache, she'd developed a carefree facade, deflecting inquiries about her love life with a dismissive smile. Yet, beneath this veneer, Antara nurtured secret dreams forged from childhood fairy tales of Cinderella and Princess Tora. Despite societal beauty standards overshadowing her own, she clung to the ancient myth of the red thread - the invisible bond connecting two destined souls. Antara secretly hopes that the universe has destined her to be with someone whose gentle touches have already sparked a deep emotional connection within her.

⚠️ Mature content only for readers above eighteen ⚠️ Jheel Kumari has been running away all her life. It has always been something to run from ; family problems, daddy issues, bullies, overweight criticisms, dark skin shaming, and.....him. He has been the biggest problem of her life. Him, who ruined everything in her life and.....her. So, like always, she ran but, from him the hardest and furthest. He is her nightmare. Advait Thakre. The son of the chief minister. He has never faced troubles, all thanks to the privileged life he got; amazing parents, wealth, supportive friends, liberty, fame, and what not. He has a bad habit of getting everything in his life.....except her. She is his stubbornness, passion, and madness. Her, whom he wants to accomplish like a challenge. She is his first and only problem. It's a game for both of them. For Jheel, it's hide and seek before she gets caught. For Advait, it's chess, and he is a mastermind of tricks and manipulation, making sure anyhow he wins. Let the game begin. *Not a sweet and simple romance. Contains mature themes*