God of Ritual

God of Ritual

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Wed, May 1, 2024
I never loved the colour red. I never like the myths of our Indian culture. Always liked the ritual of black magic~~~ I fell for her real harder. But I was nothing for her; Nothing means nothing. She always liked the colour red. And I hate that most. I start liking the colour red, And fell for her even hard. And now I am in the pool of red colour and then she started to love me. But I was not talking about the colour but the pool blood.... But what if I said my death is fake??? You know what..... ~~~~ MUSKAANEIN JHOOTI HAI~~~~
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muder
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... ❝He was the poison I was dying to taste on my lips.❞ ... I was a coward. The coward who wanted to leave behind the wreckage of her life for the man who had tormented her for as long as she could remember. The boy who had spit venom at me growing up, all because he had more power - all because my family worked for his - and had later turned into a man who was the embodiment of poison. River Vanderbildt. The boy I hated more than anything in this world. And the man I never stopped seeking. The Vanderbildts were one of the leading families in our town. They were filthy rich, disgusting powerful, but vain and cruel. While my family, on the other hand, had been ostracised from their world because love had managed to tear everything apart. It was River's mission to make my life a living hell for a reason beyond my comprehension, and he successfully did so for eight whole years. The past belonged to him. The present belonged to heartbreak. But the future; it solely belonged to me because I'd had enough. Because Ishwarya Jalal had enough of his torment. Because the girl inside her had withered away and died, only leaving the ashes that River had created.

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