ððĄðð§ ðĄðððŦððŽ ððĻðĨðĨðĒðð
âððĄðð§ ððððŦððŽ ððĻðĨðĨðĒðð - ðð§ ðð§ððĶðĒððŽ ððĻ ððĻðŊððŦðŽ ðððĻðŦðē āŋ
ââââ āĻā§ ââââ
A story where hatred speaks louder than words,
where silence burns more than screams,
and where love... feels like a war you never meant to fight
â
ðĨððĩðŪðŧðķ - a calm chaos wrapped in quiet strength
She doesn't raise her voice, she raises her standards
Soft in the way she speaks, ruthless in the way she walks away
She doesn't need saving... and she definitely doesn't need him
ðððĨððąðŋðŪðŧððĩ - the storm no one dares to stand against
Arrogant, untouchable, and used to getting his way
He doesn't chase... he claims
And when something crosses his line, he doesn't warn he ends it
They don't get along. Not even a little.
They clash, they argue, they push each other to the edge...
like fire meeting fire, refusing to burn out
But somewhere between the anger,
the stolen glances,
and the unspoken understanding
something shifts
Not love
Not yet
Just a dangerous pull neither of them wants...
but neither can ignore
Because sometimes,
hearts don't fall in love
they collide
áīĘÉŠęą ÉŠęą áīĘáī ęąáīáīĘĘ áīę° áīĄĘáīáī ĘáīáīáīáīÉīęą áīĄĘáīÉī áīáīĄáī ęąáīáīĘáīęą áīáīáīáī
áīÉīáī
ÉīáīÉŠáīĘáīĘ áīÉīáīáīĄęą ĘáīáīĄ áīáī Ęáīáīáī áī
áīáīĄÉī
āĻā§ââââââââââââāĻā§
ððŦðĻðĐððŽ
âĶáīÉīáīáīÉŠáīęą áīáī Ęáīáī áīĘęą
âĶę°ÉŠĘáī x ę°ÉŠĘáī
âĶęąĘáīáīĄ ĘáīĘÉī
âĶáīáīáīáīĘ ĘáīĘ áīÉīáī
áī
ÉŠáī
âĶáīáīęąęąáīęąęąÉŠáī áī áīĘ
âĶęąĘáī áī
áīáīęąÉī'áī Ęáīáīáī áī
áīáīĄÉī
âĶĘÉŠáī
áī
áīÉī áīáīÉŠÉī
âĶęąÉŠĘáīÉīáī áīáīĘáī
âĶáīÉĒáī áīĘáīęąĘáīęą
âĶ"áī
áīÉī'áī áīáīęąáī áīáī" áī ÉŠĘáī
âĶĘáī ę°áīĘĘ ę°ÉŠĘęąáī, ęąĘáī ę°áīĘĘ ĘáīĘáī