It was Sehri time, and everyone was seated at the dining table in the Reza mansion, engulfed in silence, with only the sounds of spoons and forks clinking.
Hassan Reza sat at the head table, with Amira and Sahara to his right, and Uns to his left. The dining table was very long, with only four people eating silently, The maids were serving them dishes.
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Faithful Betrayal. For the women who gave their all and were still left asking, “Was I enough?” — Rehan Qureshi would kneel on broken glass just to hear you say his name again. He doesn't move on—he waits. He doesn’t love gently—he aches. His jealousy isn’t quiet—it’s a storm that shakes his soul to the core. He doesn’t just want you faithful—he needs you to be his reason to survive, even if it means tearing himself apart. Jasmine Shaikh wasn’t his peace — she was the beautiful wound that kept him alive, bleeding loyalty with every breath. Who needs drugs when Jasmine smiles? That’s his addiction. This isn’t forgiveness. This is a battlefield of hearts.
Beautiful Betrayal. For the girls who love like fire and wonder if anyone will ever match their chaos— Meet Zaid Siddiqui, the man who sees your madness and calls it poetry. He’d watch the world burn if it meant you'd look at him one more time. Forget red flags. He waves them while smiling and begs you to stay. He doesn’t just want you. He needs you—like a drug that steals his breath and leaves him begging for more. His love is chaos wrapped in charm. His betrayal? Beautiful and deadly. Ayesha Hayat wasn’t a mistake — she was the war he chose to fight, knowing he’d never win but refusing to walk away. He’ll break rules, hearts, and himself just to keep you close. Who needs sanity when obsession tastes like a promise whispered in the dark? This isn’t a game. This is addiction with a heartbeat.
Truthful Betrayal. For the girls who cried over the ones who forgot them— Here’s Asad Riaz, a man who doesn’t move on. He spirals. He’ll watch you laugh with someone else and smile — but only because he's imagining breaking every bone in that man’s body. He doesn’t get jealous… he gets ruined. He’d rather choke on the truth than watch you live peacefully with a lie. His love isn’t sweet. It’s sharp. Aleena Nasr wasn’t his weakness — she was the fire he walked into, again and again, with open arms and a bleeding heart. He’d beg, break, and bleed before letting you walk away. Who needs revenge when your absence feels like a punishment crafted by the universe? Warning: He’s not healthy, but he’s yours. This isn’t a romance. This is possession dressed up as love.
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