Next day I wake up with an ache in my heart. I recall the last day when he asked,
“aap abhi tak ghar nahi gai ishika ji?”
I want to make my imaginary world that make everyone dives into it, so they forgot the reality and get comfort with the fictional world. support my writing
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An aarange marriage story of abhimanyu and aaradhya.🧡 Yaduvanshi Haveli does not forgive mistakes. And tonight- Aaradhya forgot her veil. She steps out of their room in a soft cotton saree, hair loose down her back, sindoor bright in her maang, unaware that the air itself has shifted. Then- A voice behind her. Calm. Measured. Not loud. "Aaradhya." She freezes. Not because he shouted. Because he didn't. She turns slowly. Abhimanyusingh Yaduvanshi stands at the end of the corridor, hands clasped behind his back, eyes steady. The kind of steady that doesn't blink. His gaze does not move to her face first. It moves to her uncovered head. A pause. Then he walks toward her. Unhurried. Each step deliberate against marble floors. She instinctively lifts her pallu halfway, flustered. "Woh... main bas paani lene-" He stops in front of her. Close enough that she can smell sandalwood and authority. He gently takes the loose end of her saree from her trembling fingers. Not harsh. Not angry. Precise. He lifts it himself and places it over her head, adjusting it carefully until it shadows her forehead. His fingers linger for one second too long. Then he speaks softly. "Tumhe pata hai, is haveli mein ghunghat sirf kapda nahi hota." She swallows. "Ji..." He tilts his head slightly. "Yeh maryada hoti hai." His thumb lightly presses the edge of the veil near her temple. "Yeh izzat hoti hai." She lowers her eyes automatically. He leans closer. His voice drops, almost intimate. "Yahan ki auratein bina ijazat dhoop tak nahi dekhti... aur tum bina ghunghat dehleez paar kar gayi." It isn't a threat. It's information. She whispers, "Galti ho gayi..." "galti ki saza bhi milegi, Aaradhya" "is saza ke baad aap kabhi bhul ke bhi galti nahi kar payengi " Trope✨ arrange marriage arranged by him obsession addiction
In the quiet hills of Shimla, where snowfall slows time and silence speaks louder than words, two strangers reach for the same book. Myra Tanna believes in gentle things—poetry that doesn’t shout, love that doesn’t rush, and dreams that grow patiently. A simple college student, she never expected her life to change between library shelves and borrowed verses. Arnav Malhotra has just arrived in Shimla as a government officer, carrying responsibility on his shoulders and unspoken emotions in his heart. Practical by choice, poetic by nature, he hides his love for words behind duty and discipline. Their first meeting is accidental. Their second feels like fate. What begins as quiet conversations and lingering eye contact slowly unfolds into something deeper—wrapped in respect, warmth, and an unspoken understanding. As families step in and destinies intertwine, this arranged marriage becomes not a compromise, but a choice. A story where love grows softly. Where feelings are felt, not declared. Where poetry, snowfall, and shared silences write a romance of their own. Because some love stories don’t begin with fireworks— they begin with a whisper.
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