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"Marry me.", Nicolas had his eyes fixed on her lips. "Huh? Pardon?", Sanaya was totally surprised. She was in a dream? Or... ** Sanaya Roy Chowdhury, from a small town in India who ran away from home. Twenty one years old Beautiful, tall and a simple girl. After running away to the USA she thought she finally got her freedom but one day, when she went to a party with her best friend she was lost. When she was searching for a way out she was chased by bad boys. In order to save herself from them she asked a complete stranger to pretend to kiss her. Exactly when she thought she was saved there was something waiting for her... When the stranger will ask her to marry him, will she agree? But he'll have her agreeing anyway possible because he wants her, AT ANY COST. His name is Nicolas Davis.

I gave birth to my son prematurely on a train, and my fiance sold both of us off to go live with my parents’ real daughter. After I reincarnated, I watched my parents find their real daughter again, and I could not stop my tears as well as laughter. Not only did I personally get my fiance drunk, I sent him my sister’s way, and he got her pregnant. I tied up the person I hated the most in the train carriage. The station ahead was the one where I got trapped in a small village for the entirety of my last life. In this life, it was going to be her turn. Her and her child’s!

It was just another morning commute—until he happened. Across the train aisle sat a man who looked like he’d stepped out of a high-end magazine and straight into a power struggle. His voice sliced through the air, sharp and commanding, as he chewed someone out over the phone like he ran the damn universe. Arrogant. Entitled. Dressed like a Wall Street god. Correction: he looked like a god. That’s where the charm ended—or so I thought. When the train screeched to a stop, he stood up in a hurry, stormed off… and left his phone behind. Did I pick it up? Yep. Did I snoop? Absolutely. Photos, contacts, a few mysterious texts—I couldn’t help myself. Did I keep it longer than I should’ve, building stories in my head about the man behind the voice? Yeah… I did that too. When I finally gathered enough nerve to return it, I marched into the glass-and-steel fortress he called an office. He wouldn’t even come out to meet me. So I dropped his phone on the desk outside his office door. And maybe—I left a photo on it first. Not exactly the professional kind. What I didn’t expect? A message. From him. What followed were late-night texts that burned hotter than anything I’d ever known. Words became whispers. Whispers turned into fantasies. I was falling—for someone I hadn’t even really met. He and I? Total opposites. Fire and ice. Chaos and control. But when we finally came face to face, it wasn’t just sparks. It was an inferno. What happened next? Let’s just say… falling for him was the easy part. Surviving what came after? That’s where the real story began.

“Ngh... Stop touching me like that...” I found myself squeezed against a burly man during a trip. Being naturally sensitive, his touch was overwhelmingly stimulating. I could not help but tremble and pant beside him. However, I never expected that halfway through the journey, he would eagerly lift me onto his lap. “The seat’s so hard. Your butt must be sore. Let me give you a proper massage!” By the end of the trip, he had taken everything from me...

Collection of short stories to take you to another world of imagination. This collection contains Love, drama, tragedy, emotions, and of course, lots of romance to fulfill all your cravings for stories. Based in the typical household of Indian Muslims.

At the express train station entrance, I was stopped by a security guard. He asked, “What is in the container?” I said, “It is a living heart. It needs to be transplanted in two hours.” I handed over the urgent medical pass. After the security guard checked the document and prepared to let me through, a hand reached from behind and grabbed the container. A voice shouted, “Do not let her go! The container contains prohibited items!” I turned and saw my sister‑in‑law, Ariana Cole. She pointed at me and shouted, “Sir, I am reporting her! She is my sister‑in‑law. What is in the container is not a cure for illness. It is drugs she bought from the black market. She plans to transport them and sell them by using her doctor identity!” Armed police surrounded us with their guns drawn. My eyes were bloodshot from anxiety. “Ariana, have you lost your mind? There is a donor heart inside! The recipient only has two hours to live!” Ariana rolled her eyes and sneered. “Why are you pretending? My brother said you have acted mysteriously lately. You are definitely up to no good. If you have nothing to hide, why not open it and show us?” The place fell silent. The SWAT officer leading the group spoke in a cold voice. He said, “Please cooperate with the inspection. Open the container immediately.” I looked at my countdown watch as cold sweat soaked my back. If the heart became contaminated, Arthur Quinn, the national hero who depended on it, would not survive.