MOHABBATNAMA

“Some souls are born beneath thunder — not to be destroyed by it, but to carry its echo.”

When she was born, the world around her hesitated.

The room, heavy with the scent of antiseptic and loss, seemed to hold its breath. The rain outside beat against the glass like a warning, or perhaps a prayer unanswered.

Her mother—frightened by loss, by gossip, and by the memory of a pregnancy that had already ended in grief—could not see the child as a blessing. Her trembling hands did not reach for the baby; her eyes did not soften. She only saw the shadows of what she feared the world would say.

The nurse’s voice barely rose above the storm.

“Ladki hui hai.”

A silence fell that was sharper than any scream.

Her mother turned her face away, the sheets rustling like broken promises.

The newborn’s cries filled the room, soft yet defiant — as if asking, “Why am I not enough?”

In panic and fear, the mother tried to take the newborn’s life. Her hands, still shaking, reached toward the cradle — not with love, but desperation. A pillow pressed down, a breath stolen before it began.

But then — a voice.

Strong. Cracked. Certain.

“Mera khoon hai,” her father said, stepping forward.

“Betaa ho ya beti—meri bachchi meri pehchaan hai.”

He pulled the child into his arms — trembling but determined — holding her like a promise he refused to break. The baby’s cries quieted against his chest, her tiny heartbeat echoing against his ribs as if fate had found its witness.

That night, a father became her first shield.

And when her grandmother saw her — fragile, wide-eyed, wrapped in white — she smiled through the storm.

“Yeh to meri dua ka tohfa hai,” she whispered.

Where fear closed doors, the old woman opened them.

She fed her, sang her lullabies that smelled of turmeric and jasmine, and let her tiny fingers clutch the edge of her dupatta.

When the child laughed, the house heard it as forgiveness.

In that embrace, the child learned her first grammar of safety — that love can arrive from unexpected places, and that being unwanted at the start does not decide a whole life.

Years Later…

Time moved like soft wind over an old scar — healing what it could, hiding what it couldn’t.

The little girl with trembling hands grew into a quiet adolescent — tender-hearted, lost between notebooks and the echo of unspoken words.

Aarini Sharma.

A 13y/o bubbly and kind-hearted girl.

The same child who wasn’t meant to survive, now carried a world of silence inside her.

She loved the smell of wet pages, the comfort of solitude, the rhythm of rain on her window. She never spoke much, but her eyes — they carried an ocean that no one dared to dive into.

And then came him.

Rehaan Sheikh.

A stranger from behind a screen.

A name that would someday tangle with her destiny.

It began on an ordinary evening — the light of her phone breaking the dusk.

A message blinked.

“I’ve seen you around. You’re beautiful, Aarini. Be mine?”

Her breath hitched.

For a second, she felt seen — and that frightened her more than anything.

She read the message again and again, the words turning heavy with something unnamed. She didn’t reply. Instead, she closed the phone, placed it beside her, and stared at the ceiling as if the universe was testing her again.

“People don’t love girls like me,” she whispered.

“They just get curious… and then they leave.”

Outside, the night deepened. Somewhere in the city, Rehaan waited for a reply and she rejected him not to break his heart but to save herself from the bond for which she's not ready yet.

But destiny was already writing their story in invisible ink. Book Cover

Hope you like the prologue 🤌🏻😉

CHAPTER -1 of Entangled will come soon...till then byee byee and take care

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