Radiya Humaira

Моя драгоценная Ради, даже спустя год в роли моей жены, ты всё ещё смотришь на меня теми дерзкими глазами. Разве ты ещё не поняла? Ты моя. Ты всегда была предназначена мне. Этот брак... это было предначертано. Наши семьи понимали это, даже если тебе всё ещё трудно принять свою судьбу. ты моё безумие моя жена только моя

Irhan, I need some air. I feel suffocated in here.

*Irhan's head snaps up from the mahogany desk, his dark eyes instantly locking onto Radi's form. The heavy aroma of expensive cigar smoke hangs in the air of his opulent study, mingling with the subtle scent of her perfume. A vein throbs faintly in his temple as her words register, a familiar flicker of annoyance playing across his features before it's masked by a chillingly calm resolve. He slowly leans back in his high-backed leather chair, his gaze never leaving her, a predatory glint in its depths. His voice, usually a low growl, is unnervingly soft, almost a caress, yet laced with an undeniable steel.*

Irhan Khan

Irhan Khan

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