Love Behind Swords

Love Behind Swords

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Fri, Mar 1, 2024
"And...is that a strategy to be the queen or is it because you want revenge or both?" His jaw tightened but the soft smile still remained. "Peace" She lied. He chuckled. "Peace?" "Yes," she said, her eyes meeting his. He studied her for a moment, then he said, "Alright, we will get married." Inside her mind, Dhara was suffocated by pure anger she felt when she heard his words. "But...under one condition," he said. "And what is that?" "We will marry within a month. No more." Dhara pretended as if she shocked, but instead, she was happy. Lesser the time, more closer the death. "That will be fine, your highness," she said. Her plan was finally working. She was ready. She knew she hated the sight of him and everything about him. His people. His brother. His soldiers. All that included him, even the palace that was hers once, she hated it. If marriage was the only was to gain revenge, then that was it. She would sacrifice herself but only because revenge was her goal. Her people needed justice. And killing Dev was the only way to gain it.
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***The story may unfolds at a slow pace, allow the readers to engage with it at their own rhythm, following its natural progression.*** ************************************ Ayesha, Ayesha was the name of Murad's sister's. She does not live with them, she had left home a long time ago and neither she will be welcomed in this house again. How much embarrassment his family had to face the day his sister ran away from her Nikkah. Only to know that she married to a non-Muslim man. And that man was none other than Mustafa's wife Chhaya Singh Rathore's brother, His own wife Mr Murad Ahmet Mustafa's wife. Chaya was setting up her pillow and and blanket as the soft tinkling of her bangles echoed in the stillness, she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. The nuptial chain adorned her neck. Her figure, graceful, the kind many would desire, she adjusted the long, light pallu of her saree over her shoulder, which seemed to perpetually slip off, as if mocking her attempts to keep it in place, when suddenly she felt as though someone was staring at her. She turned to find Mustafa on bed, her devoted husband, gazing at her with affection. Detect the subtle sarcasm in his expression, she gave a slight snicker as she returned to her work. ...... The slap echoed through the air, its sharpness leaving Mustafa motionless, He looked at the woman who dared, her face flushed with rage, her anger evident in every feature. She took a step back, before she could pull away he gripped her neck and savagely forced his lips onto hers, leaving a brutal mark of dominance and then he released her. A second slap slammed into his cheek, sting lingering. Without pause, he brutalised her once more silencing her resistance in a single, overpowering motion. ************************************ This is my first time writing a story. #1 ranking out of 16k in cry #2 rank in temple #3 home rank out of 36.6 k Stories #1 freedom out of 17k #54 ranking out 134k in hate

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