“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."