Zillat

Dilan Malik was the epitome of beauty and innocence. Pure, untainted, radiant-a fragile bloom in a world that often demanded thorns.

Rudra Sagar Rathore was the opposite: cunning, ruthless, a snake slithering through the corridors of power. Betrayal was his signature, and manipulation his art.

And now, he had set his eyes on her-not her, but the empire her name carried. The elections. The money. The power. That was his goal. Her body, her soul, her trust-they were just tools in his hands.

She didn't know the kind of storm that was coming. She only wanted one thing: someone to erase the weight she had been carrying alone, someone to lift her from the ruins of a family collapsing like an old, fragile vase.
.....
Notification came

The one that shattered her world.

A video of her surrendering herself willingly. Of her body, her trust, her innocence... all exploited, all public, all viral.

She loves him beyond anything and here he make a show of her trust and love...

His face? Hidden. Blurred. An enigma wrapped in shadows. But hers? Her body became the world's possession.
..

"I hate myself for loving him," she whispered through tears, clutching her belly where the seed of his betrayal is breathing with her Abira's hands were on her, bloodshot eyes reflecting horror, helplessness, rage. Her baby sister... reduced to a headline.
..

Falling for her was never on his list. But here he was-mad, possessive, captivated, loving her like a storm loves the shore.
....
He hated her faith. He hated the mere existence of Muslims.

She... saw humanity in everyone, lived it for the sake of Allah, even as the world crumbled around her.

And now, their fates were entwined-her innocence, his obsession, a viral scandal that could destroy everything.

Somewhere between power and betrayal, love and hate, the world waited. And it was ready to watch it all burn.

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