“Aap ko lagta hai ke aap ne khud ko qaid kar liya hai... par chabi mere paas hai.”
(You think you’ve locked yourself away... but I hold the key.)
In the cold, marble hushed halls of Zaviyar’s mansion, silence is a rule. At thirty one, he is a man of impeccable sophistication restrained, precise, and seemingly untouchable.
And Ulfat, She is twenty four, an orphan with nothing but a quiet, burning intent.
Zaviyar plays the role of the cold guardian, but behind his stern gaze, the hunger is mutual.
"Ulfat, this is highly inappropriate for this household."
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