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Synchronicity Of Souls

Fajar_Ayyaz
21
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 21 chs / week.
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Synopsis
Synopsis In a world that moves too fast for hearts to speak, two souls—unknown to each other, yet somehow already familiar—cross paths in a moment that feels less like chance and more like the whisper of destiny. He is a quiet storm, a man of still waters and unfinished sentences, carrying the weight of memories that no longer belong to him. She is a flicker of light, a woman stitched together by poems and pauses, searching for something she cannot name. Neither is looking for the other, and yet, life folds time and space just enough to make them collide. Drawn together by the hush between heartbeats and the language of shared silence, their connection feels ancient—something that once was, and somehow, is again. In a world of missed trains and lost glances, their eyes find each other like constellations aligning across a night sky they've always belonged to. But was it fate that led them here… or the slow, sacred pull of souls remembering what the world has forgotten? This is not a story about falling in love. This is a story about being found—in the echoes of past lives, in the poetry of presence, in the deep, unspoken knowing that some strangers are not strangers at all. Blurb “What happens when healing comes from silence, and love arrives when you’ve already given up on being seen?” Leila Zaman never expected freedom to feel so heavy—until Milan gave her space to breathe, and a stranger began to notice the parts of her even she had forgotten. A poetic, emotional journey through family scars, quiet strength, and a slow-burn love worth staying for. #FamilyDrama #SlowBurnRomance #SouthAsianVoices
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Chapter 1 - Chapter 1: Fractures In The Night

While chaos swirled around her, Leila Zaman stood still—calm on the surface, but only she knew the storm suffocating her from within. Her chest ached with the weight of silence and the sharp sting of helplessness. As everything around her unraveled, she tried—desperately—to hold it together. To salvage the situation, or perhaps, to mend what had already begun to fall apart.

Though this tension had become a grim part of their daily lives, tonight, Leila wished to end it once and for all.

Across the room, Amara Zaman struggled to breathe, her thoughts fraying at the edges. Her hands trembled as she clutched her chest, trying to ground herself.

Ayesha Nasar's voice cut through the room like a jagged blade, repeating the same words over and over again—like a broken radio trapped in a loop—trying to convince everyone that every syllable she uttered was law, a divine decree.

Zaman Ahmed stood quietly to the side, detached, as if none of this chaos bore his name. As if he wasn't at the heart of it.

Without hesitation, Leila rushed to Amara, recognizing the signs of an oncoming panic attack. She wrapped her arms tightly around her elder sister, whispering soothing words in her ear, grounding her. But Leila's own mind was far from still—it was a battlefield of voices and buried fears.

"Enough," she said firmly, her voice low but sharp. "Stop making a scene in the middle of the night."

She helped Amara to her feet and guided her away, motioning to her younger brother. "Daim," she called gently, "come with us."

Together, the three of them retreated into their shared room. Leila closed the door behind them, muting the sounds of Ayesha shouting at Zaman Ahmed, though the words still leaked through the walls like a curse unwilling to let go.

For a brief moment, silence settled.

Each of them sank into their own space, lost in thought, processing the night in their own way. Though they were siblings—bound by blood—they were also three completely different people, shaped by their own pain, perceptions, and quiet battles.

Leila was the first to emerge from the silence.

She looked at Amara and Daim, and with a deep breath, began to speak—not in bitterness or complaint, but with a tone threaded in calm and care. She spoke gently, choosing her words like soft threads to stitch the wounds left by what had just transpired. She knew their hearts well—perhaps better than they did themselves—and her voice, though quiet, carried the power to settle storms.

Because that was who Leila was—sharp-eyed, thoughtful, and full of quiet courage. The one who stood still when everything else fell apart.