introduction

"Greetings, everyone! I return with a brand-new tale—one that weaves sorrow and joy, thrills and exhilaration, and a touch of the forbidden. A story that will captivate hearts, ignite emotions, and leave you yearning .

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The rain poured mercilessly, drumming against the windowpane, as if the heavens themselves were mourning with her. The flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows across the ornate bedroom, but Anaya sat frozen in the corner, her silk saree crumpled around her like discarded dreams. Her breath felt shallow, her chest tightening under the weight of something she couldn’t quite name—was it grief? Anger? Despair? Or the bitter realization that she had just sealed her fate with a man she barely knew?

The festivities had ended hours ago. The house, once alive with music and laughter, had fallen into an uneasy silence. Somewhere in the hallway, distant whispers of servants murmured about the extravagant wedding, about how fortunate she was to have married into a family of wealth and prestige. Fortunate. The word felt like a cruel joke. If fortune was measured in gold and silk, then perhaps she was the wealthiest woman alive. But if it was measured in love, in choice, in freedom—then she was the poorest of them all.

She glanced at the mirror across the room, barely recognizing the woman staring back at her. The deep red of her bridal saree clung to her like a cage, its intricate embroidery mocking her in its beauty. Her jewelry—heavy gold necklaces, glistening bangles—felt suffocating, their weight pressing into her skin as if branding her as someone she no longer was. The sindoor in her parted hair, the mangalsutra around her neck—symbols of a wife, of belonging—felt foreign, as if they had been forced upon her like shackles rather than blessings.

Her gaze drifted toward the bed, where her husband’s presence loomed like an unspoken threat. Arjun. That was his name. A name that had meant nothing to her before tonight. A name that now dictated the rest of her life. He sat on the edge of the bed, his back turned to her, shoulders tense. He had spoken little since they had been left alone, and even in those few words, there had been no warmth, no tenderness.

Not that she had expected any.

This marriage was not built on love. It was built on duty, on familial alliances, on the silent understanding that emotions had no place in such arrangements. Her father had made the decision for her, his voice final, his will absolute. And she, the obedient daughter, had done what was expected of her. She had smiled when told to smile, bowed when told to bow, and now, she had given her life to a man who felt like a stranger.

She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. Was this to be her life now? A series of endless nights filled with silence and suffocating expectations? Would she always feel like a prisoner in this house, in this marriage, in this body that no longer felt like her own?

She wanted to scream. She wanted to run. But there was nowhere to go.

Outside, the storm raged on, as if mirroring the tempest within her. And as the clock ticked away the final hours of her first night as a wife, Anaya made a silent vow to herself—if love was not meant for her, then she would not seek it. If happiness was a luxury she could not afford, then she would learn to survive without it.

But fate, ever the mischievous weaver of stories, had different plans. Because sometimes, love does not arrive when you call for it. Sometimes, it sneaks in through the cracks of the life you never wanted. And sometimes, the person you believe to be wrong… turns out to be the only one who was ever right.

She just didn’t know it yet.

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