MastaaniXwritez
The world is a graveyard of boundaries,but for him limits were merely illusions designed for the weak.
He didn't see the walls of a marriage, the sanctity of a home, or the legalities of a name.
He only saw her.
She was a soul forged in a furnace,
yet she walked through life as the personification of her name: Modesty.
At 28, her universe was small, soft, and fragrant with the scent of baby powder and home-cooked meals...
Her days were measured in the sticky, chaotic handprints of her four-year-old son and the quiet, rhythmic expectations of a marriage the world called "perfect."
She lived in the light, believing she was safe...Believing that if she played her part well enough, she would remain invisible to the monsters of the world.
She was devastatingly wrong.
Far from her nursery rhymes and domestic grace, a different kind of storm was gathering. It wasn't the kind of darkness that simply turns a life into hell; it was a silent, predatory thunderstorm...It was the crackle of lightning before the strike-a quiet obsession that didn't seek to destroy her world, but to swallow it whole.
At 25, he sat in the velvet silence of his empire, a man possessed of a fortune that could buy dynasties, silence critics, and bend the will of cities. But it couldn't buy the way she looked when she tucked her son into bed and laughed breathtakingly.
They say love is a sanctuary-a place to hide. But for him had no interest in being her refuge. He didn't want to solely love her; he wanted to consume her.He wanted to breathe the air she exhaled and own the thoughts she hadn't even thought yet.
In the shadows of her "perfect" life, the air has already grown heavy.The pressure is dropping. The storm has a name, and it is already knocking at her door....
A wind knocking at the window to come...
...●♡Haya-e-ishq♡●....