The rain lashed against the clay walls of the haveli, thunder roaring like a beast in the distance. Lightning cut through the dark sky, illuminating the courtyard where Prithvi Raj Chauhan stood—drenched, fierce, unyielding. His breath came heavy, his kurta soaked and clinging to his frame, but his eyes... they burned with something far more dangerous than the storm.

Across from him, under the arched verandah, stood Ishika Rai.

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, jaw clenched, heart pounding so loud she could barely hear the storm. She had come to say goodbye. The city had called her back. This village, with its ancient rules and complicated emotions, had no place in her life.

Except—he did.

"You think you can just walk away?" Prithvi's voice was hoarse, raw. "As if you didn't change everything, Ishika."

She looked away, fighting the ache in her chest. "This was never meant to last. You and I... we're too different. You belong to this village. I belong to another world."

He stepped forward, water dripping from his hands, his eyes never leaving hers. "I don't care where you belong. I only know where I belong—with you."

Her breath caught. He had never said those words before. Never allowed himself to.

"I tried to fight it," he continued, voice cracking, "tried to hate you for how you challenged me, questioned everything I stood for. But Ishika... you didn't break me. You freed me. You made me feel—made me want."

He paused, and the storm softened as if to listen.

"I love you," he said simply. "Not as a man who rules a village. Not as someone you're expected to love back. I love you as a man whose heart only beats in your presence. I love you with every part of me I never thought existed."

Tears rolled down Ishika's cheeks now, mingling with the rain. She took a step forward, then another, until she was standing in the rain with him—shivering, soaked, and undone.

"I was terrified," she whispered. "Terrified of losing myself to someone like you. But I already have... and I don't want it back."

And then—no more words. Just his arms around her, her fingers clutching his shirt, and their lips meeting with a desperation only storm-tossed hearts could understand.

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HEART THAT WAITED ALONE

Pihu Dubey grew up in the quiet shadows of her father’s world — a world where loyalty, old friendships, and family ties mattered more than dreams. The jewel in this world was Akash Randhawa, the son of her father’s best friend — dazzlingly handsome, brilliantly successful, and heir to a multi-billion-dollar empire. For as long as she could remember, Akash had been the silent, distant star she had built her world around. But Akash had dreams sculpted by power and prestige. In his polished life of glittering parties and impossible standards, there was no room for the simple, steadfast girl who loved him from afar. To him, Pihu was nothing more than the “little sister” from family gatherings — kind, invisible, and entirely unlike the women he pursued. As Pihu blossoms into a woman, her heart remains shackled to a hope that Akash might one day see her — really see her. She battles silent heartbreaks, moments of cruel indifference, and the slow ache of watching him love others while never even glancing her way. “The Heart That Waited Alone” is a tender, aching journey through unspoken love, the agony of waiting, and the silent courage it takes to love someone who may never love you back. Will Pihu’s silent devotion ever find its echo — or will her heart remain a lone flame in a world too bright to notice her gentle light?

HIS PUPPET, HER CURSE

Marina Elric was not born to be a puppet—but somewhere along the way, she became one. An ambitious, fiercely talented actress from a forgotten coastal town, Marina’s entire life had been a series of auditions—for approval, for love, for survival. When she landed a lead role in an avant-garde production at the prestigious Eclipse Theater, it should’ve been her breakthrough. Instead, it was her unraveling. Because the man behind the script—the revered and feared director Dominic Vale—was no ordinary artist. He was a master of control. A sculptor of minds. A man with an obsession for creating beauty out of chaos, no matter the cost. Dominic saw something in Marina that others didn’t: fragility masked as fire. And he wanted it—her—on his stage, in his hands, under his direction. Not just to perform, but to become the role he had written. A role that bled into reality. A performance that never ended. To the world, Dominic was a visionary genius. To Marina, he was the man who pulled her strings… and tied them around her throat. What started as art became imprisonment. What was meant to be a performance turned into possession. And in this game of illusion and obsession, the question was no longer who Marina really was—but whether she’d survive the version he needed her to become. Because in Dominic’s theater, the spotlight burns. And love is just another scene… scripted in madness.

ADDICTED TO HER

She was his weakness. He was her nightmare. Aanya Verma is a quiet, soft-spoken girl from a small town who moves to the city for college. With dreams of becoming a teacher and making her late mother proud, she keeps her head down and avoids trouble. Rafael "Raaz" Singh is the ruthless, feared leader of the Black Viper Syndicate. Cold, calculated, and dangerously charming, he has built his empire on blood, fear, and loyalty. Somewhere in the chaotic heart of Mumbai… The rain poured relentlessly, blurring the neon lights and drowning the sound of a city that never truly slept. People rushed by, umbrellas clashing, shoes splashing in muddy puddles. No one noticed the black SUV parked in the alley. No one dared. Inside, Raaz was bleeding. His vision blurred as he gritted his teeth, pressing a trembling hand to the gunshot wound in his side. It wasn’t supposed to go down like this. The deal was secure, the traitor already buried—or so he thought. But someone had known. Someone had planned. He staggered out of the vehicle, trying to disappear into the narrow street before the next wave of attackers came. His footsteps echoed as he leaned against a wall, strength fading, pulse slowing. And that’s when he saw her. She didn’t belong in that part of the city—wide eyes, drenched salwar-kameez clinging to her frame, books held tight to her chest as she ran toward the bus stop. She paused as her gaze met his, hesitated… and then, against all logic, walked to him. "You’re hurt," she whispered. Raaz tried to growl out a warning, but the pain silenced him. He was losing too much blood. Without asking, she slipped beneath his arm, supporting him. “There's a clinic near the station. You won’t make it unless someone helps you.” He wanted to snap at her—to push her away, threaten her, anything. But she moved fast and spoke even faster, like fear and kindness were fused in her veins. She called a rickshaw, talked the driver into taking them with a story about a drunk uncle, and wrapped her dupatta around his wound to slow the bleeding. In fifteen minutes, she dropped him at the clinic door and vanished into the crowd. No name. No number. No idea who she had just saved. But Raaz never forgot. Not the softness of her voice. Not the determination in her eyes. Not the warmth of her hands soaked in his blood. He survived that night. And the only thought that haunted him afterward wasn’t vengeance—it was her. The girl who saved a monster. And now, he would find her. At any cost.

01

PROLOGUE

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HEART THAT WAITED ALONE

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HIS PUPPET, HER CURSE

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ADDICTED TO HER

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