The night was thick with the scent of rain and danger. Somewhere in the chaos of the city, a woman burned-not in flames, but in spirit.
Indhu had spent the last five years chasing a shadow. A nameless, faceless savior who had pulled her from the jaws of death, only to vanish before she could even say his name. She had searched endlessly, turning over every stone, seeking a ghost in a world that had long forgotten that night.
But fate had other plans.
Instead of finding her savior, she found him.
Vikram was the storm she never saw coming-cold as steel, sharp as a blade. A man who moved with precision, spoke with purpose, and carried an air of danger so effortless, it was almost intoxicating.
Their worlds should never have collided, but fate had a twisted sense of humor.
Their first encounter was anything but smooth. Sparks flew, tempers flared, and in the midst of their clashing wills, something unspoken ignited.
And then, before she could make sense of it, her fate was sealed.
A wedding. A promise. A name that would forever bind her to the man who stood at the opposite end of the spectrum from her. Fire and ice. Chaos and control. A burning flame and the frozen storm meant to contain it.
But beneath the surface of their growing tension, there were secrets. His secrets. Her past. Their fate.
And in the shadows, someone was watching. Waiting.
She thought she was searching for a man from her past.
She didn't realize she was already caught in someone else's game.
The question wasn't whether she would win.
It was whether she would survive.
مقدّمة
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في هذا الكتاب، لا أقدّم قصصًا تُروى، بل ظلالًا تُرى...
كل كلمة هنا هي صدى لروحٍ لم تجد طريقها إلى النور، وكل سطرٍ هو همسٌ من أعماقٍ لا يصلها الضوء.
كتبتُ هذه الصفحات لا لأُعبّر، بل لأُنزف. لأدع الأصوات التي خنقتها العتمة تتحدث أخيرًا، ولو بصوتٍ مرتجفٍ بين أنفاس الليل.
هنا، يسكن الصمت أكثر من الضجيج، وتتنفّس الكلمات ببطء كأنها تخشى أن توقظ شيئًا نائمًا منذ زمنٍ بعيد.
كل حرفٍ هو خطوة داخل متاهة من الأفكار الغامضة، من الذكريات التي لم تمُت تمامًا، ومن الخيالات التي تختبئ خلف الجفون المغلقة.
في "بين الظلام والهمس" لن تجد الحقيقة واضحة، ولن تعرف إن كنت تقرأ أم تُقرأ.
فالكتاب لا يُحكى، بل يُسمع... في أعماقك، حين يخفت كل شيء من حولك، وتبقى أنت وهمسك الداخلي فقط.
أغلق النور، وافتح الصفحات...
دع الظلام يُكمل حديثه، ودع الهمس يعلو حتى يصير صوتك.
فربما، في نهاية هذا الطريق المظلم، لن تجد الإجابات، لكنك ستتعلم كيف تصغي لما لم يجرؤ أحدٌ على قوله من قبل.