AAYAT
The first thing people noticed about Aayat wasn't just her beauty, though she carried it effortlessly; it was the way she laughed — open, unrestrained, and contagious. An extrovert to her core, she seemed to collect people wherever she went, weaving friendships like threads of a bright tapestry. By day, she worked as a painter for a creative company, her hands forever stained with shades of blue and gold. By heart, she was a giver — loving, caring, and endlessly patient. To those who knew her, Aayat wasn't just an artist of colors; she was an artist of emotions, painting warmth into the lives she touched.
ISHIKA
Ishika had a way of bringing order to chaos, a skill that made her one of the most sought-after event planners in the city. Deadlines, details, décor — nothing ever slipped past her sharp eyes. Ishika didn't just plan events; she planned happiness, weaving care into every celebration she touched. Her heart, however, belonged most fiercely to Aayat. Theirs was a friendship so deep it blurred the line between choice and destiny. Ishika loved Aayat like a sister — protective, nurturing, and endlessly supportive. She was the one who the one who stood in the front row clapping the loudest at her art showcases, and the one who silently steadied her when doubts tried to creep in. Ishika's beauty wasn't loud; it was the kind that lingered — in her kindness, in her laughter. If Aayat was the flame that drew everyone's gaze, Ishika was the calm glow that made people stay. Together, they were a balance: the artist and the organizer, the dreamer and the anchor.
ANIRUDH
Anirudh was a name that carried both reverence and fear. The prince of Rajasthan, he was born into wealth and power that most could only dream of, yet it wasn't the gold of his heritage that made him formidable — it was the darkness that lingered just beneath his regal exterior. With sharp eyes that seemed to see through every pretense and a commanding presence that left no room for defiance, Anirudh was both mesmerizing and terrifying. He was the kind of man people whispered about in hushed tones. Scary, dangerous, and utterly unyielding, he was not someone you could resist — not in the palace, not in the world beyond. Anirudh was a storm draped in royal silk: unpredictable, destructive, and impossible to ignore. But beneath the menace lay an even more consuming truth — his obsession. When Anirudh loved, he loved fiercely, dangerously. Possessive to the point of madness, he could not bear the thought of losing what he claimed as his. For him, love wasn't gentle; it was fire, it was hunger, it was war. And once his heart chose, he would move kingdoms, break laws, and shatter lives if that's what it took to keep that love his own. Anirudh was not a hero carved in white marble; he was the prince forged in shadows, a man who could either ruin you or worship you — and sometimes, both at once