Bagh-e-Mohobbat
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There was a time when love did not rush.
It arrived softly, like the evening breeze through palace corridors, carrying with it the fragrance of blooming gardens and unspoken emotions. It lived in pauses, in stolen glances, in moments that did not need to be named.
Bagh-e-Mohobbat belongs to that time.
Of a time when love was patient.
When gestures were gentle.
And when a single flower could say everything. 🌸
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