I. The Princess & Her Slave
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
In the fading glory of Hyderabad’s last Nizam, Princess Sameena Begum was a vision: kohl-lined eyes like a deer, lips the color of pomegranate seeds, skin scented with attar of roses. Yet no suitor pleased her. She scorned every proposal.
One evening, a slave was brought to the durbar for auction — Farhad, a young man from Kashmir with sea-green eyes and whip scars across his back. When their gazes locked, something ancient stirred in Sameena’s chest. Without thinking, she bid twenty thousand ashrafis and claimed him.
On his first night in the zenana, Farhad stood with head bowed. Sameena dismissed her attendants, poured wine, and spoke softly, “From this night, you belong to me — body, breath, and soul.”
Farhad lifted his eyes, voice steady: “Princess, a slave’s body can be bought, never his heart.”
She smiled. The challenge thrilled her.
Days turned to weeks. Farhad became her personal attendant — massaging her feet with jasmine oil, braiding her waist-length hair, painting intricate mehndi on her palms. Every touch was reverent, every glance burning.
On the night of the full moon, Sameena summoned him to her chamber. She fed him wine from her own cup, then slowly untied her anarkali. When she pressed her lips to the scars on his back, Farhad trembled — not from fear, but from the ice inside him finally melting. That night, beneath a canopy of silk and moonlight, princess and slave became lovers.
The court erupted in scandal when the truth leaked. Sameena renounced her title, took Farhad’s hand, and walked out of the palace forever. They vanished into the valleys of Kashmir, living simply — he farmed, she cooked, and every night they loved under the same moon that had once watched over kings.
Old villagers still speak of a couple who walk hand-in-hand when the moon is full — a woman with a faded royal necklace, a man bearing scars of servitude. They say the moonlight itself bows to their love.
II. Ramadan Nights
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Aaliya was a young widow in the narrow lanes of Lucknow. Ramadan had returned, bringing long fasts and longer nights of loneliness.
One night after Taraweeh, she met Rehaan — the quiet boy from the neighborhood mosque who always prayed in the last row. Their eyes met over folded prayer mats, and something wordless passed between them.
Rehaan began bringing iftar to her door every evening — dates, sherbet, fragrant biryani. Aaliya protested at first, then accepted. Soon he stayed for Maghrib prayer, then for conversation under the stars.
On the 27th night — Laylat al-Qadr — the electricity failed. They climbed to the rooftop. The moon hung low and silver. Rehaan reached for her hand. Aaliya let him hold it.
When rain began to fall, they ran inside soaked. In the flickering candlelight, Rehaan dried her hair with infinite tenderness. Aaliya looked up — and kissed him. The fast was broken, but something far more sacred began. That night they discovered each other slowly, reverently, whispering Quranic verses between kisses.
On Eid morning, Rehaan asked for her hand from her family. Her mother saw truth in his eyes and consented.
They married simply. Aaliya wore white, Rehaan a plain kurta. That night on the same rooftop, the Eid moon smiled down on two souls who had fasted from loneliness and feasted on love.
III. Secret of the Harem
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
In the marble harem of a forgotten Rajput-Mughal palace, the Nawab’s youngest wife Zainab shared a secret with the eunuch guard, Javed — who was not truly a eunuch.
For years they met in the hammam after midnight — steam, rosewater, and stolen touches. Javed’s hands knew every curve hidden beneath her silk angarkha.
One night the Nawab announced he would visit the harem. Panic turned to passion — they made love against the cool marble as if it were their last night on earth.
When discovery loomed, Zainab poisoned the Nawab’s sherbet with her own hand. Javed carried her away under cover of darkness.
They live now in a quiet village as husband and wife, raising roses and children, praying five times a day — their secret buried with the old king.
IV. The Mehndi Night
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
On the night before her wedding, bridegroom’s cousin Arslan was sent to deliver the bridal mehndi. Bride Noor was alone, veiled only in tradition and longing.
While applying henna to her palms, their fingers brushed. One touch became many. The scent of mehndi mixed with desire.
They made love on the bridal bed meant for another man, staining the white sheets with henna and passion.
At dawn Noor married as planned, but every time she looked at the fading mehndi on her hands, she remembered Arslan’s mouth.
Years later, on every wedding anniversary, Noor and her husband celebrate — while in a distant city, Arslan still keeps one dried henna-stained bedsheet as his most sacred relic.
V. Eid Moon
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
On the eve of Eid-ul-Fitr, childhood sweethearts Sana and Zain were finally allowed to meet after years apart — arranged to marry others.
They slipped away to the old graveyard where they once carved their names on a mango tree. Beneath the rising Eid moon, they confessed everything they had never dared say.
Clothes fell like prayers. They loved with the desperation of those who know sunrise will tear them apart.
At fajr they parted with tears and promises. Both married as planned.
Yet every Eid, wherever they are, Sana and Zain look at the same moon and whisper the same dua: “May Allah forgive us… and may we meet again in Jannah as we were tonight.”