Set in colonial India, in the 1910's when the Nationalism movement arose, Ann a beautiful, smart, young woman, is constantly bashed by her step mother and the society, for being a half-caste. She is an offspring from her father's first marriage to a British woman, who was killed during the early riots, when she was just a babe. Her father retired from his service as a British Official and suffers from early dementia.
Supporting the family, proves to be difficult, despite Ann's work as a governess at an Indian British official's household. Her step-mother finds a perfect match for her sister Gauri with the family of an Industrialist to secure her future and the family's wealth. Kalyani Singh Oberoi, the Oberoi family matriarch, finds Gauri simple, beautiful, traditional, and perfect choice for her grandson.
The most eligible bachelor in town, who had returned from Cambridge, to run his family Business, Shivaay. He is ruthless, arrogant and he returns to India with a secret mission in hand. Marriage is the last thing on his mind. But when he meets Ann, he is intrigued by her, and most of all he sees an opportunity.
Shivaay and Ann embarks on an epic journey of love, loss, and vengeance, amidst socio political calamities.
𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 ✧・゚: ✧・゚:
"𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮... 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘸?" The accusation rang through the air, their fingers pointing at Shivay.
Yashvi's breath hitched. The weight of a hundred condemning eyes burned into her skin, branding her with a sin she never committed..
"𝘞𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩," Shivay's voice was a low growl, dangerous and unyielding. His gaze, cold as steel, swept over the crowd. "𝘚𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘵."
The men he had beaten sneered, reveling in the chaos. The villagers murmured, their judgment heavy in the air.
"𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺. 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘳."
Silence fell. Yashvi's hands curled into fists, her entire being trembling with rage and humiliation.
"𝘐'𝘥 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘮," she hissed, her voice shaking but firm.
A muscle ticked in Shivay's jaw, his patience snapping. He stepped closer, his dark gaze locking onto hers.
"𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭, 𝘚𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘢," he murmured, lethal and unwavering. "𝘕𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘥."
A marriage of hate.
A fate they didn't choose.
A fire they couldn't stop.
This wasn't love.
This was 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄.