Hum Aur Tum Novels & Stories

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Clara Sterling, the richest woman in the city, successfully got a divorce and the custody over her daughter. I married her right away. Five years into our marriage, I've already quit my job and focused on becoming a great father and husband at home. Everything changes when Clara's ex-husband, William Sawyer, returns to the country abruptly. That night, my stepdaughter, Sarah Sterling, moves my things from Clara's room to a guest room. "You're my stepdad, so you can't sleep with my mommy. I can't make Daddy sad. You should leave our home!" The maids make fun of me. Meanwhile, Clara raises an eyebrow at me. "It's completely normal for Sarah to take her biological father's side. Don't take her words to heart. You're my husband now, anyway." I just hum in response as I pack up my luggage silently. Clara tries to climb into my bed late at night, only for me to turn her away. "Our marriage contract will come to an end in two days. Once the time comes, let's get a divorce."

"Some things are meant to be ruined, Stranger. I'd like to ruin your innocence"..... Becca is a "Good Girl" with a clear plan: finish her Home Science degree, keep her head down, and live by the Word. Her life is a collection of modest skirts, silent prayers, and the steady hum of her sewing machine. But when Josh—the untouchable "King of NUAT"—stumbles into her textile lab bleeding and hunted, Becca’s carefully stitched world begins to unravel. Josh is ambitious, dangerous, and hiding a secret that could burn the entire campus to the ground. He didn’t mean to drag the quiet "Church Girl" into his war, but after one desperate, stolen kiss in a dark closet, the damage is done. To the campus, she’s his new obsession. To his enemies, she’s the perfect leverage. Now, Becca is no longer a ghost in the halls. She’s a target. With a sinister voice from the shadows claiming that "Stitches don't hide secrets," Becca must decide if she can trust the man who used her to survive—or if the boy she saved is the one who will ultimately destroy her. In a jungle like NUAT, even the purest soul can get caught in the thorns.

prologue She turned towards him. With a seductive look on her face. She came close to him. Wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her with all his myth. He felt like he got his world in her. " you know what, once in these streets we crossed each other's path, and now in these vary streets it's gonna end," she said with a blank look. " I love you, Ishani! " Mujhse Pyaar tum Karte Ho par tumhari Zindagi ki zaroorat main banugi, Tumhe pata bhi nhi chalega kab tumhare dil, jaan mei sirf Mera naam hoga' she thought in her mind (you love me, and I'll become the need of your life, you would not even know when I'll become your heart, life... You'll only have my name in your heart) " you love me? " she asked. He nodded with a smile " then jump from here or I will," she said with seriousness in her words. Second scene " you thought I love you," she said with a laugh. " with an idiot like you... Babe, sorry but better luck next time " she said waving her hand in the air. Suddenly she collapsed with a hard chest. He looked into her eyes .he eyes show hurt and betrayal. " if you didn't want me... If you never loved... Then why? " he said with hurt in his words. His arms wrapped around her in a painful manner. " if was all just. A daring babe... Just a dare " she said in a chocked voice. She had a hard time dealing with her feelings. He left her and went away. Suddenly she lost her balance and collapsed on the floor. " I love you Vansh," she said to herself and out loud.

Ean's face twisted with anger as he grabbed me by the arm, dragging me toward the old, rusted freezer in the corner of the warehouse. "You're going to feel what Helen felt," he spat. "Maybe that'll teach you not to mess with her." I struggled against him, panic rising in my chest. "Ean, this is insane! It was an accident! Let me explain—" He wasn’t listening. He shoved me inside the freezing metal box and slammed the door shut. The echo of the lock clicking into place made my heart pound in my ears. I banged on the door with my fists. "Ean, please! You can’t do this!" I screamed, but the sound of his footsteps grew fainter as he walked away. He left me with nothing but a single bowl of water, like I was some kind of prisoner. I slumped against the cold metal, shivering. The temperature plummeted almost instantly. The hum of the freezer kicked in, and I realized too late—it wasn’t broken like he thought. It was working, and I was trapped. My body shook uncontrollably as the cold seeped into my bones. I screamed for help until my throat was raw, clawing at the walls in desperation. My bloody handprints smeared across the icy surface, a silent plea for mercy that no one would hear. Seven days passed. When Ean finally returned, the look on his face was one of smug satisfaction. He had expected me to beg, to apologize. But when they pried open the freezer, all they found was my frozen body, stiff and silent, my suffering long over.

During the ten years since I was found and brought to my biological family, Sonia Baxter, the girl who took my place, and I have been as close as real sisters. Even Mom says that Sonia cares more about me than a real sister would. I once swore I'd give my life to protect our special family of four. When Sonia is rushed into emergency surgery with a ruptured cerebral aneurysm, I am in my office, calmly practicing a basic suturing technique on a surgical simulator. On the screen, the robotic arm threads the needle with such precision that it looks like a work of art. A few minutes later, my boyfriend, Oliver Lyons, slams open the office door and shouts at me, "Amelia Baxter! Sonia's in critical condition. Only your micro-dissection skills can save her! Every expert in the hospital is waiting for you! We've got less than an hour before the window closes!" He looks at me with hopeful eyes. I'm the only person in the country capable of performing a surgery this complex. My hands are even known as the "Hands of God". However, I simply reply with a hum and continue fiddling with the model. Suddenly, my parents rush in. Mom grabs my arm and cries out, "Amelia! That's your sister in there! How could you just stand by and watch her die?" I gently pull away from her and hold my right hand out in front of them. This hand, which had once created countless medical miracles, is now trembling slightly. "Unfortunately, since yesterday, I've been showing symptoms of essential tremor. Dad, Mom… this hand is ruined."

He’s the Captain of the Austin Wolves. I’m just the guy who makes him lose his composure. Diego Alvarez is everything the sport of hockey demands: lethal, disciplined, and untouchable. As the captain of the Austin Wolves, he lives his life in the spotlight, fueled by the primal instincts of a wolf who refuses to be leashed. He plays hard, wins harder, and never looks back at the guys he leaves in his wake. I’m the opposite. I’m Kol Reyes—scholarship student, dance instructor to kids, and a guy who spends more time in the university library than on the ice. I’ve spent two years perfecting the art of being invisible to the Alvarezes, especially after Diego humiliated me back in high school. But then comes one night, one party, and one massive, blurry mistake. I wake up in the bed of my worst enemy, tangled in his sheets and gasping for air, with no memory of how I got there—only the lingering, electric hum of his touch against my skin. Now, Diego is everywhere. He’s stalking the library, "helping" with my Physics homework, and looking at me with a predatory intensity that makes my traitorous heart skip a beat. He says he wants to get to know the "real" me. He says he’s done with the games. But I know better. He’s an Alpha, and he’s playing a dangerous role. The problem? The chemistry between us is a frozen fire I can’t stop reaching for. I’m supposed to be guarding my heart against the man who once broke it, but every time Diego touches my cheek or pulls me into his orbit, the walls I built start to crumble.

To protect the assistant who had been evading taxes, she deliberately gave false testimony in her role as my superior's wife, putting all the blame on me. I protested endlessly, but the law held me accountable. I was imprisoned for two months. Upon release, my colleagues turned against me, ostracizing me and destroying my promotion chances. Seeing that I neither cried nor caused a scene, my wife assumed that I had finally submitted. She even threatened to make amends with a lavish wedding for me. However, during the wedding vows, the assistant, suddenly overtaken by jealousy, ran to the company rooftop and threatened my wife with suicide to force her to cancel the wedding. My wife, who had always been obedient to him, panicked. She abandoned everyone at the ceremony and spent the entire night comforting her assistant. Afterwards, she calmly explained: "Wilson is young and impulsive. I was just afraid he might get hurt. Besides, you were released from prison so early thanks to him. He helped a lot. By right, he's still your lifesaver. I couldn't just abandon him." I looked at the couple rings she had just put on her finger, let out a faint hum, and said nothing. She believed I accepted her excuse and was pleased, even making an unprecedented promise: once she had calmed the assistant, she would take me on a honeymoon. However, she seemed to have forgotten one thing. She had already signed the divorce papers, and I had filed a lawsuit in court to have the case heard. From that moment on, we were no longer husband and wife. We were only plaintiff and defendant.

On the day my older brother, Morgan Slater, is supposed to register his marriage with Savannah Reed, he doesn't show up at the city hall at all. Instead, he calls me, who's there to hype up the atmosphere as the best man. "Savannah is a fake heiress. She's even poorer than me now. Why would I marry her?" After ending the call, I see two comments floating in front of me all of a sudden. [Morgan really is stupid! The paternity test has it all wrong! Savannah is the real deal!] [He has already reached the marriage stage! I can't believe he actually lets the real heiress slip through his fingers just like that!] I instantly turn around to see Savannah standing in a corner on her own. Despite having gotten kicked out of the Reed family, the cheap dress does little to conceal her charm. After giving it some thought, I approach her, knowing full well that I resemble Morgan a lot when it comes to my looks. "Sorry, but Morgan won't be coming today," I say bluntly. Savannah seems to have expected that outcome. All she does is hum in response. "My family has wronged you this time. If you don't mind, is it okay if I marry you instead?" Savannah narrows her eyes at me. Her gaze flits over my face, which is similar to Morgan's. Morgan spends the day looking for another rich woman to marry. As for me, I've already registered my marriage with Savannah and become the official son-in-law of the Reeds.

Manhattan was doing that thing again twinkling like it had all the answers, when really it just had expensive lighting. Alexander Knight leaned against the glass wall of his penthouse, seventy-five floors up, watching the city hum below him. Bourbon in one hand (mostly untouched), phone in the other. The merger docs stared back at him from the screen, but the part that actually kept him up at night wasn’t the billions on the line. It was the fine print from the Japanese investors: “Family stability preferred.” Translation: get a wife, look settled, or watch the whole deal slip away. He exhaled, fogging the window for a second before it cleared. His assistant had already sent over a neat little list of “suitable” women—discreet, polished, zero drama. Women who understood arrangements. He hadn’t even opened the attachments. Because something about the whole thing felt… hollow. His gaze drifted down, past the grid of lights, to the tiny café on the corner. Golden glow spilling onto the sidewalk, handwritten sign in the window: Local Artist Pop-Up – One Night Only. A woman stood in front of a canvas, head tilted, paint-smudged shirt slipping off one shoulder. She was talking to someone out of view, laughing softly, then stepped back to study her work like it had personally offended her. She glanced up—straight toward his building, straight at him somehow, even though there was no way she could see him up here. But for a split second, their eyes locked across the impossible distance. But right then, with the whole damn city glittering between them, he had this ridiculous, unshakable thought: She’s the one I’m going to ask. And hell help them both when she says yes.