Qaafila
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- Parts 21
Ongoing2h 2m
Last published Wed, Jun 4, 2025
MY FIRST BOOK
Rooh, who never received her parents love and repeatedly being called back to Karachi because she's been in London since she passed her 10th grade.
Fahad Ali, who got everything he wanted since childhood, a great lifestyle, great clothes, and the most valuable thing - his parents' love.
Fahad wonders why so much attention is being given to her ?
One day, they meet in Karachi, argue, talk, and everything happens.
After a few days, due to some misunderstandings, Fahad says, " Ab mujhe pata chala tum yaha kyu aayi ho. Tum sirf yaha apne baba ki property lene aayi ho. Tum ek no. Ki lalchi ladki ho. London mein rehke tum puri bigad gayi ho. Tum aapne ghar se bhagi hui ek ghatiya shameless aur characterless ladki ho.
"Now I know why you came here. You're here only to take your father's property.You are a shameless and characterless person who ran away from your home You're a greedy girl, spoiled from living in London.
After hearing this, Ruh is shocked and says," tumhe jo sochna hai socho joh bolna hai bolo lekin mere character pe ungli uthane se pehle sau baar sochna. Sach pata na ho toh nahi bolte ,
MR. FAHAD ALI
"Think what you want, say what you want, but think a hundred times before pointing fingers at my character. If you don't know the truth, don't speak." Mr. Fahad Ali.
let's begin the story of Ruh Ahmed and Fahad Ali
A story of two cousins who don't know each other.
read to know
best of luck
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romamce
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Match Made In Hell ✔️
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AFEEMI , Hai Yeh Pyaar... [NOT COMPLETED]
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The love and freedom they both deprived of. A love story that never got written the way it could've. Miran Hamidi was twelve when his father sent him away. He was too angry to settle down and too stubborn to live under the same roof. . Aayat grew up in the same house, but they never really knew each other. He was the absent cousin who never looked her way. Their paths only crossed during Eid greetings and polite nods. They didn't have a connection. There was no warmth or hatred, just a distant respect rooted in tradition. Five years after his return, the silence changed. It started small-a cold glance, a sharp word, misunderstood gestures. What had been indifference slowly turned into tension and discomfort. ____________________ Aayat - "Miran bhai... main-main ne sirf ek class bunk ki thi." Miran : "Tumne sirf ek class bunk ki thi... aur izzat ka kafan bhi utar diya saath mein?" _____________________ Miran: "Scene mukammal hai. Ab agar koi taali baja de toh drama bhi khatam ho. Aayat : "Sir dard ho raha tha. Woh bas-" Miran:"Sir ya jism ka? Saaf bata do, aaj toh tum dono tayyar dikh rahe ho." ______________________ But love doesn't come from names on a nikahnama. And hatred doesn't need to be loud to exist. A story of missed timings, a woman who craved dignity and patriarchal man who only controls. This isn't a love story. It's the slow unraveling of two strangers forced into closeness, under the same roof, under the same name.
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