1 Chapter
Ink&Kin
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Chasing Her
The bar throbbed with neon and bass, but Saanvi Desai was the real storm. Furious with Kabir Chauhan, the Assistant Commissioner of Police who ruled her heart and her temper, she downed tequila like it was ammunition, swaying against strangers, her laughter sharp enough to cut. Every glance, every touch was aimed at one man-watching her from the shadows like a predator. Kabir's gaze never left her, jaw tight, control fraying. When a stranger's hand slid too low on her waist, he moved-cutting through the crowd, shoving the guy back with a growled, "Get your hands off her." "You don't own me, Kabir!" she snapped, heels wobbling as she fought his grip. The man puffed his chest. "Who the hell are you?" Kabir didn't look at him. He simply set his service pistol on the table. Clunk. The music stopped, the bar froze, and the stranger's bravado bled away. Saanvi's breath hitched under Kabir's dark, unblinking stare-a silent warning that the most dangerous thing in the room wasn't the gun. It was him. (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.) Kabir Chauhan - Assistant Commissioner of Police Disciplined. Reserved. Calculated. A man who thrives on order, strategy, and the weight of responsibility. His life is a checklist of rules-and he never breaks them. Saanvi Desai - Surgeon Passionate. Fearless. Impulsive. A woman who trusts her instincts over logic, runs toward chaos instead of away, and believes some risks are worth taking.
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Mahabharata from Eyes of Duryodhan
Only for blackhearts 🖤 Witness the descent of Suyodhan - the noble prince - as he is twisted and reborn into the monster history named Duryodhan. This isn't a story of change. It's a story of how a man is made the villain. Read it if you dare to question who was truly right. "I died with my body broken. And opened my eyes... in heaven." Everyone said I was the villain. The cause of the great war. So why did I reach Swarga, while the so-called righteous still wander? I remember being born from a cursed lump of iron. I remember being called evil before I even spoke a word. I remember watching Draupadi being dragged while the so-called great heroes stayed silent. I remember my brother dying as Bhima drank his blood like a beast. I remember Karna dying unarmed and my own thigh broken by a coward's blow. And I ask: "What kind of Dharma cheats to win?" "What kind of truth needs a lie to kill Drona?" "And what kind of justice lets a woman be gambled like a coin?" They called me arrogant. But I stood for my people. I stood by my friend. I asked only for a kingdom I was born to rule. They gave me war. And yet... I am here. "Call me evil, if that's easier for you. But answer me first: if I was so wrong... why am I in heaven?" This is not the story of the victors. This is the unspoken truth of the man they cursed. The story of the last Kaurava. Now it's his turn to speak. This is not the Mahabharata, you know. This is the story your ancestors were afraid to tell. #1 in villainpov
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