The days that followed Aniruddh’s departure were draped in a heavy, suffocating silence. The Roy Choudhary mansion, once a beacon of life, felt like a hollow shell. Dida had physically and emotionally crumbled under the weight of the oath she had taken and the coldness of her grandson’s exit.
Bondita, despite her own breaking heart, became the pillar of the house. She set aside her own grief to serve Dida, gently coaxing her to take a single spoonful of rice or a sip of water with her medicine. But the news Bilal brought was the hardest to swallow Aniruddh hadn't been to the office. He was a ghost, wandering the city or buried in some dark corner of his past, unreachable and untraceable.
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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