Story

๐’๐š๐ข๐ง๐ญ๐ž๐ ๐ข๐ง ๐’๐ข๐ง

Story

๐’๐š๐ข๐ง๐ญ๐ž๐ ๐ข๐ง ๐’๐ข๐ง

She didnโ€™t know where she was being sent. Her stepmother had told her it was just a jobโ€”cleaning, serving, nothing more. But when she stepped in his penthouse, a shiver crawled down her spine. Something wasnโ€™t right. The house was silent, dark and cold. The fragrance of something loomed something she couldnโ€™t name. Fear? Temptation? Fate? And then, she sees him. Vidyut Roy. Tall, handsome, and devastatingly powerful. A man whose name carries sinsโ€”one who is feared, despised (hated) and utterly ruthless. The world already hates him for what he did to his ex-wife, Avyah, for the way he destroyed her without remorse. He was never a hero, never a savior. He was a man who owned, who controlled, who consumed. Mira, on the other hand, is a walking, talking storm of emotions. The kind of girl who dramatically stares out of windows when it rains, narrating her own tragic backstory like sheโ€™s in a movie. She picks fights with her own conscience, trips over flat surfaces and laughs at her own joke and never shuts up. She is a mess of contradictions wrapped in one stubborn, cute, innocent, dramatic package. But. She doesn't know, this is a cage. And he is already holding the key.

xeronsane

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โ€”Writing fiction so intense that youโ€™ll loose yourself in them and forget whatโ€™s real when they murmur โ€œ๐™Ž๐™๐™, ๐™๐™š๐™–๐™™ ๐™ข๐™š ๐™ก๐™ž๐™ ๐™š ๐™–โ€ฆ ๐™œ๐™ค๐™ค๐™™ ๐™œ๐™ž๐™ง๐™ก.โ€