IFK: the innocent soul

IFK: the innocent soul

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WpMetadataReadOngoing3h 49m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Thu, Jun 25, 2026
✨Book second of AHZAB series My amber green eyes are buried in his dark brown ones. He cages me between his body and the marble counter, our faces only inches apart, yet his breath scorches my skin. "Why are you doing all of this?" I grit my teeth, trying to sound stronger than I feel. He chuckles, low and cold. "Because you are mine." "You can't own me! You are no one to me except a stranger!" I scream, pushing him away but he doesn't move. Not even an inch. His fingers tighten around my shoulders, sending a shiver down my spine. "Today," he whispers, voice like ice, "I'll show you exactly what I am to you." He grabs the corner of my dupatta, wraps it around my wrist, and holds my trembling, covered hand in his large one, dragging me toward the mansion's entrance. ___________________________________________ "Qubool hai." With that single word, my life seals itself with my enemy. The man I hate the most. Because if I hate someone, I drown in sin and now, that very someone has become my husband. My mehram. My test. "Welcome to my hell," his deep voice echoes, marking the beginning of my nightmare. This mind-blowing book cover made by Anjali aesthetic
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Once, I was the quiet boy who stood in her shadow. Hopelessly in love. Pathetic. Obsessed. She knew it- And she used it. She told me I "might" have a chance. Smiled while ripping me apart. Made me her joke, her pawn, her emotional plaything. Then she humiliated me in front of everyone and walked away like I never mattered. But I did matter. And now? I'm back to remind her. I spent three years building everything she thought I'd never have- Power. Money. Respect. A reputation that makes people stand when I enter a room... and drop to their knees when I tell them to. She doesn't recognize me at first. But her body does. It remembers the hands that used to tremble around her... Now they grip harder. Deeper. Unforgiving. She wants control? Not anymore. Now she gets to feel what it's like to be played with. To be the one left shaking. Desperate. Begging. Because I'm not the boy she broke. I'm the man who's going to ruin her- Slowly. Deliciously. And she's never looked prettier than when she's crying my name.

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