Fitoor : The Muse

"Don't marry him."

"You don't understand, Ayaan--"

"I'll kill him, Tara. Before the wedding After the wedding. Whether he's got you wearing his ring or his name tattooed on your skin. It won't matter. I'm asking you not to marry him because you'll be widowed within a few hours. Aur tum mujhe safed saree mein achhi nahi lagogi."

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I was engaged to the wrong man.
But I was in love with a worse one.

Not because he'd hurt me.
Not that. Never that.

But because he was a relic of everything I craved but wasn't allowed to touch.

I had been told that I could stay safe if I hid.
But safety was never seductive. And madness was wrapped in red silk.

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This is Fitoor.

The kind of love that whispers, 'he'd kill for you.'

The kind of love that answers back, 'he already did.'