60 Partes Continúa Contenido adultoTHE SINGHANIA SAGA
Book-1
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"You're acting like a boy chasing after a fantasy. This isn't love. When she leaves you-because, trust me, she will-you'll come crawling back here." she snapped.
This isn't love.
Yeah, no shit, it isn't.
Love was a lie. An elaborate, messy lie people told themselves to justify their selfishness. A convenient excuse for abandoning logic and reason, for making mistakes they had no right to make.
I'd spent my whole life watching it destroy people. My father loved my mother, or so he claimed, but all it ever brought them was pain. Screaming matching in the dead of the night. Shattered glasses on the marble floors. I'd grown up wading through the wreckage of their so-called love, and I'd sworn, I'd never let myself fall victim to it.
And I hadn't. Not really.
Because this wasn't love.
It couldn't be.
Love--if existed--was fragile. It could break. It could end. People fell out of it.
What I felt was unwavering. Unbreakable. It wasn't something I could lose or fall out of. It wasn't a fleeting moment or an illusion I'd be able to discard when things got too difficult. It was part of me, as much as my skin, my bones, my blood. It was something that would never fade.
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