Chand: Ek khubsurat Daag

Tue, 23 Dec 2025 18:00:54 +0000

She was never meant to be seen.
A fragment of moonlight hidden behind veils of dust, born in silence, raised among whispers that never reached the sky.
And yet, fate — cruel and deliberate — placed her before him.

He saw her not as a person, but as a commodity.
A forbidden desire wrapped in innocence.
The more he tried to look away, the deeper he fell into her orbit, like a moth surrendering to the flame that would devour it.

There was no name to their relationship, no love between them, only gazes heavy enough to drown in.
Her laughter was a hymn; his touch, a curse.
And somewhere between the ache of longing and the sin of wanting, love took shape — not pure, not kind, but dark, consuming, eternal.

The world would call it wrong.
He would call it destiny.
And she — she would call it her undoing.

Because some stories aren’t written in ink or blood —
they are etched like a forbidden sin,
and remembered by the scars they leave behind.