The Fierce Flame

38||what is papa?

If you're enjoying this book and finding entertainment in it, what's the issue with voting? Only about 400 out of 3,000 readers are voting per chapter. What about the rest of the readers? Can't you be a bit more supportive and less indifferent? You don't have to leave comments if you don't want to, but seeing atleast some votes really encourages me in keep going. And my loyal readers are always there to make my day and show respect for my efforts, which I truly appreciate.

Please consider voting; it means a lot to me. I didn't want to have to bring this up, but seeing my hard work go unnoticed is disheartening. Imagine yourself in my shoes. I have the option of putting this story exclusively on ScrollStack with a paywall, which would likely earn me more, but I've chosen not to because I understand not everyone can afford it. If I can consider your wishes, why can't you show consideration for mine?

This is a serious matter for me. I don't tolerate disrespect toward my work,treated like a doormat. I know the effort it takes to produce chapters worth reading. If this trend continues, I'm afraid I won't be able to continue posting this book.

And treat this message as a request. Thank you.

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If your life were turned into a movie, a series, or a book, which part would you consider the best? Replaying, turning the pages, rewinding—what would be the best memory? The 360-degree turning part, which tugged at your heartstrings, just to unlock the door that summoned butterflies to dance in the hollow, empty space.

For Reyansh, it was the day he saw Kiraz.

And for Kiraz, all those days her eyes beheld Reyansh were the best part of her movie-like life. Loving is such a strange thing. Loving Reyansh was not a task, as some drunk infatuated hearts believe. Carry it like a prayer in your veins, smell like them, and never cease to drown in their eyes, and you will be like Reyansh.

Carry their name on your lips as if it were made for your pretty lips, count them in your prayers, get drawn to their flaws, and you will be like Kiraz.

A lover's heart. A lady's heart.

A monster's heart. A man's heart.

His eyes, a blend of deep brown, dark, mystic, and cold; but who knows his eyes, will always see that familiar yet strange sparkle, which emerges only when they settle on her. His lady.

He gets a strange sick pleasure when he calls her with that nickname. His. Like she is play of all cosmic angels, just to make him more alive than those of others. 

As he looks at her, the way the red strands dance with the breeze, the veins visible on her throat, her eyelashes blinking at the screen, holding a clueless look, telling how she is lost in deep thoughts. Strangely, he knew what she was thinking. She was thinking about his departure after one month. But is that what she wanted? Was she really in love with him, or was it a mistake for him to read her eyes?

He has never failed in reading her. However, the look she gives him reminds him of something too familiar, unforgettable because it resembles his own. What's the point of her loving him when he's accepted the fact that men like him will never be loved? He's not a gentleman, just a tainted soul. If she's in love with him, why now? Why, when he's hating to look at her without that bitterness?

When he looks at her, her betrayal surfaces, laying itself bare before his feet. And crossing it doesn't sit well with him. What if he starts leaning on her and she moves away? He'll never be ready to get up again. 

And about his son, a lump forms in his throat. Is he going to lose him too? He doesn't trust himself anymore. Strangely, he can feel her, her reason for hiding Veer from him. The story isn't ready for another monster in disguise like him. He truly doesn't want Veer's innocence to be snatched away.