Aniruddh didn't speak. He simply allowed the slight pressure of her hand to guide him. He moved with her momentum, the emotional exhaustion making him yielding, until she seated him in a dining chair.
Bondita retrieved a bowl of the warm kheer. She took a small spoonful and, without a word, lifted it to his lips. Aniruddh looked at the spoon, then at her face. The tension between them was palpable, but the kheer represented the unspoken truce: her care for his health was unconditional, even if her presence was not. He opened his mouth and accepted the spoonful.
Writing has never been just a hobby for me—it’s how I breathe. Every drop of ink in these stories carries a piece of my soul, from the cold shadows of revenge to the fire of a love that refuses to die. My goal is simple but huge: I want these characters to travel across borders and live in the hearts of readers everywhere. I want to build a world where our shared emotions—the pain, the blood, and the obsession—connect us all. When you support my work, you aren't just "buying a chapter." You are fueling a dream. You are helping an independent creator stay dedicated to the craft. Every follow, every share, and every small contribution helps me keep the lights on and the stories flowing. By supporting my work, you aren't just buying a chapter; you are helping a student turn a lifelong passion into a way to support my studies and my future. Every bit of support helps me keep this world alive. Thank you for walking this dark, beautiful path with me.
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